


Blood slave

by KiriAsakura



Series: Modern Thilbo/Richartin Couples [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Cemetery, Creepy, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Gay Love, Gothic, London, M/M, Pretending to Be Gay, Reincarnation, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Victorian, coffin, hard sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiriAsakura/pseuds/KiriAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is a willing and dreamy man whose greatest desire is to write a prodigious vampire novel. Gothic literature is something that always has fascinated him and he wants to venture further into it, unaware that soon he will live his own supernatural experience. Martin will not be able to resist the seduction of the handsome Count Richard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memento Mori. An ephemeral life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is a Richartin fic which intended to have a gothic and sinister topic. It is a story based on vampirism, in Victorian times and some elements inspired on the development of the famous Bram Stoker.
> 
> It also contains some Freebatch initially.

                                                                            

 

…………………………………………………….

**Chapter 1 — Memento Mori. An ephemeral life**

Leeds, 1850

It had been a cold night charged with a distressed sorrow, the young blond could not recover from his grief. His dear cousin had died and it was an irreparable loss which he was not sure when he could recover.

Over the next seven days after the fateful death, the young blond had come to the cemetery to lay flowers on his tomb. He could not help thinking about that under that soil, within that cold tomb lay the lifeless body of his loved one, stripped of his life, a body without a soul that now shared the place with the dead. But the image that the blond kept of his cousin in his memory was the same face of peaceful slumber that he had last seen on him at his funeral, a picture of him submerged in an apparent deep sleep, yet he knew perfectly he would never awaken.

A long and pitiful agony had plagued him for months, to such a young guy like him, almost of the same age that him, who could no longer enjoying life. He had succumbed helplessly to a fatal disease.

Martin had loved his cousin too much, in a way that certainly went beyond than fraternal. He was his everything.

Remember all the times they had spent both together pained him greatly. A few tears rolled down his cheeks as he stood in front of his grave, sometimes staring blankly toward the gold words written on the stone in memory of his short life and sometimes Martin watched as the flowers that he had left during the subsequent days were also dead, were now withered, colorless, lifeless. And then the young blond with taciturn gray eyes had finally decided to let it go. He would not visit the cemetery in a long time. He thought that despite his promise to be every day in front the cold tomb, to be there every day also would end up consuming his life. Besides he didn't want to keep remembering that what now lay beneath the earth was his dead cousin, who no longer enjoyed life.

Shortly after noon that day, the blond Martin left the cemetery. He should try to get on with his life.

But despite the decision was taken, the young Martin could not help but feel diminished by sorrow. His cousin Charles was the closest beloved one he had to a brother, for this reason the blond had not spared no expense when his cousin breathed his last. Martin had made the expenditure required to have one last memory of him.

Arriving at his home he remembered that fatal afternoon when his cousin had said goodbye to him expressing his last words in a soft whisper from his pale lips trembling with agony, making the solemn oath that he always would ensure his welfare from the domain of the dead, weeping while Martin held his hand for one last time to give him a little bit of courage and as he replied that he would always remember him.

That same night, the men of the photography studio he had hired arrived at his home. Fifteen minutes it took to get the first and last memory of the young man who had just died. Martin had ordered them to sit down his dead cousin on his favorite chair, dressed in his finery, in a respectful position in simulating life, holding a white rose in his now rigid hands as a symbol of his short life.

 _Memento Mori_ ... Remember that you will die...

It had been almost two weeks since that fatal day and now the fascinating daguerreotype looked wonderful, framed in a golden baroque frame, on the wall in his spacious living room. The blond often stopped to contemplate the portrait, even death in the arms of the dead his young cousin had looked handsome in that magnificent portrait on the wall of one of the sites where they had lived together for the past years.

The sadness for his unfortunate loss would accompany him for a while.

And so inevitably the months passed and the young Martin continued his daily life engaging in activity that made him feel passion, writing. Martin was a young guy curious and with passive personality who had a beautiful golden blond hair as the sunbeam and he had beautiful gray eyes that changed colors according to the light that on they were reflected, glorious light that sometimes provided him a beautiful bluish tinge. His voice was so sweet and melodious that captivated anyone who listen him. It was a perfect combination with his unusual sweet appearance and his kind and gentle behavior.

Martin had an innate talent reflected in every written that he developed carefully with his pen. And he had a deep secret that he had never revealed to anyone: he had a clear and definite preference for people of his same sex. He liked men, provided he had been fully aware of it and he felt interested in all that men were capable of doing, he loved too much all the masculine qualities and he felt greatly excited in the proximity of many male individuals and that was something he had known well since he could remember. But sodomy was an immoral and aberrant act that was severely punished in that society that still maintained their good manners under the despot excuse of the Christian church. If a man knew another man under the carnal desire it was considered an infernal aberration. Despite all the recent Illustrated Cultural Revolution, that retrograde and unjust ideology had yet transcended to the political laws of a society in the industrial boom. The laws of God and the laws of men forbade it alike. For that reason the young blond had decided to silence his homosexual preference forever. If no one would accept his sexual inclination then he would take the dark secret to the grave even if he regretted that to do so would have to show a facet of hypocrisy. Therefore, Martin had preferred to keep busy in his home, writing on paper what the imagination inspired him, and he could also improve the activity in which he felt most interested, develop into a real writer and so he could also avoid being falsely forced to become involved with any woman.

The young Martin was fifteen at the time that death had taken his cousin. They had grown up together, developing very narrow and incomparably valuable links at a very early age. Martin had been an orphan boy who had been adopted by his uncles when his parents had died in a fatal accident on the railroad that took them to Manchester in a fateful autumn afternoon, when he was only five years old. Being such a small child he did not have many memories of his parents who had however always had taken care of him with all their love. Thereafter the child was taken and adopted by his uncles and from that moment his life with his cousin Charles had become unique. His dear cousin had taught him much about life, their relationship had always been so close that he had been about to confess his big secret to him on several occasions. But he never did it, even in his deathbed. But now that Martin was old enough to understand, he mused that his cousin had probably known it all along. Besides their relationship had always been much more than fraternal, probably his love for his cousin had managed to develop much beyond than just love cousins, but his innocent shyness had prevented him to prove it. And without knowing it, Martin had always been corresponding by Charles in the same sublime way. His cousin had loved him so much like him....but now that had no remedy.

**London, 1875**

Unaware time passed and days became weeks, weeks became months and when Martin noticed all the time that had elapsed had passed more than twenty years since the death had taken to his most beloved one. He felt alone. He was alone. He would always be alone.

For almost a decade ago, Martin had moved to London with the desire and the immense aspiration to penetrate better in the gorgeous world of literature. He had attended college and he had graduated in English literature. But despite his hard work and great talent, he had not yet managed to have the success he wanted. His short stories liked enough to make some moderate newspapers popularity allowed him to post them but he never received good payment for it and he had not luck enough to be accepted to publish his stories again in a short time. Martin could barely survive with so much modesty so he was constantly employed in some other jobs to survive. He was a willful and dreamer despite his slumps, but he had to be humble and accept any source of decent employment to eat and pay the rent for the small flat where he lived.

In his modest flat, which was at the edge of London, still he retained that mortuary portrait of his dead cousin, the only vestige of modern technology that probably still retained a part of the soul of the deceased. The post-mortem photography played to cheat death despite the intervening years. The false staring of his cousin looked to have a gloomy spell over the glass sheet. In that photo the silver particles had chemically reacting to light to capture his image forever, the photo still had the same lucid monochromatic contour that had had since the time that Martin had paid for the portrait in the photography studio. The portrait was preserved perfectly well protected by the other glass that had been placed between the frame and the plate.

Martin often felt attracted to pausing for a while to observe the calm look bleak of Charles reflected in the photograph, a look that did not reflect his soul, but certainly it still was somehow trapped there, like the belief of that time said.

Looking at the portrait as every night, when Martin arrived at his home after a long and hard day, probably spent in the library or probably doing one of his many temporary jobs, Martin recalled that in his almost forty years old, his life had not been always so good after all.

Certainly he did what he liked, writing, sometimes for hours immersed in his great inspiration, but his life had fallen into the heavy routine. His life lacked emotion; his life was trapped in an endless cycle where he even inevitably fell into mediocrity begging for a little space for the publication of one of his stories in a newspaper or magazine, even if it was not into a publication of wide circulation. But what really made him feel down, even if he sometimes tried to deny, it was that in his late thirties he had ever loved and if he had loved it had been only superficial, frivolous and in unrequited way. Therefore he had never had a sexual experience. It was still a chaste man who had never tried ecstasy of the lust, but his vehement desire was derived by the aberration of copulation with another man. He was hopelessly frustrated. But he could not avoid, anyway, who would love him? His hopes were extinguished with the passing of the years. If he had not lost his virginity in years when he had too much youth and energy, he wouldn't achieve it now, when most men his age had already established a family, a career, a job, a life.

Therefore people had begun to murmur. Nobody had ever criticized him for being a sodomite or had tried to spread false rumors like that, but truth was that most of the people with whom Martin could have coexistence considered him a rare man, too serious and delicate, uninterested in social life the sight of everyone. They had never seen him courting females. But anyway, the blond had never really worried about criticism from others. It was his life. He just greeted with Hello to all his neighbors and acquaintances politely and then he enclosed within his home, alone, being away from all of them. Or sometimes he just took a walk through the park alone without any intention of telling anyone about his business. And it was not his duty to give explanations.

It was an absolute fact that he was not a very sociable man and he was not at all interested in being one. He could never pretend to be what he did not want to be. He knew he was entirely homosexual and he accepted it himself, He was not going to pretend to be the opposite. Greatly he hated hypocrisy.

But his pride did not prevent his hopes vanished as the words in the wind. But unfortunately he thought he could resign from now to accept his fate to be alone always.

Nevertheless, creativity and great desire to write more of his works had never been arrested. For several years he had studied about devised about eccentric folklore of continental Europe to build upon his new story. Therefore, Martin had done a thorough and exhaustive investigation in depth on everything related to culture and tradition, above all, what had spanned during centuries in old territories of Transylvania, Hungary and Romania. The blond had found things that proved of great interest in all investigations he had made about that region of Europe.

One day, early in the morning Martin had gone to the main city library in order to continue his documentation to continue writing his new novel. It had spent long since he had begun to write many drafts, although he was not quite decided yet what precise would be the plot of his story. He needed to create a truly disturbing and appealing character for his novel. In fact, the blond had always felt greatly attracted to the unknown topics and the supernatural, since childhood Martin had been very fascinated by ghost stories that had heard or he had read in books in the library. The library was a kind of refuge for him; a quiet and peaceful place where he could spend hours reading works of true magnificent writers that carried him to travel to different worlds and lives through reading.

Sometimes he even lose track of time when spent hours reading in some of its rooms. And just as fascinated him thoroughly investigate the issues that aroused his interest. He had a fascination with death, perhaps since his beloved cousin had died this curiosity had increased more. But what he really loved was the idea of that supernatural being who had shared in common many cultures around the world. The idea of a vampire was fantastic and perfect. A vampire could represent all the elements that made to feel fears to humans. So he had thought that his novel would be done under this concept. But he needed to research more, to have a true inspiration on which to base. He did not want to write something brief and simply.

After looking carefully which books could serve in his new investigation of the day, Martin was finally able to find some suggestive titles. But that day he discovered that the library girl had resigned his job. Then the blond remembered that she had told him she was going to marry and therefore she would cease to labor there. Instead now a new young man would be responsible for all the activities that the young lady had left.

Martin took the index cards as usual, after learning of the news, and correctly wrote each of the data of the books he needed, he wrote the serial number and registration of authorized loan. The new librarian who attended was very kind to him. He was a young man of peaceful appearance, whose friendly smile could captivate anyone. Martin was very comfortable for such a good treat. No doubt the young man looked very kind.

During the rest of the week, Martin continued his usual visit to the library and it was as typical, but in recent weeks he had been to gone to there with much more regularly and he had been spending more hours in reading book after book. With the more information found in each reading, he felt more excited and motivated to continue writing the drafts of his future novel. He was enormously eager to start transcribing everything in his new modern typewriter.

One afternoon while Martin was looking for some books on a shelf in the library, he found that one of the books he needed was at the top of the shelf. He saw the ground and could not find the footstool naked eye and realized it was just down the corridor. But before the blond would move towards and beyond to take the footstool, a man of fair complexion and slim, took first the book that Martin wanted and gave it to him. The man immediately handed it in Martin's hands when the blond had barely managed to see a bit of his face.

"Oh thank you very much" the blond muttered timidly and bewilderment. The young man smiled affably, maintaining his upright posture.

"No problem," replied the young man, without blurring the smile on his face. He reached out to greet him kindly and Martin responded and shook hands cordially "nice to meet you" he greeted.

"nice to meet you too" he said Martin and his eyes met for the first time with the striking blue eyes of this unknown man "thank you very much again to catch the book" the blond sputtered again.

"You're welcome; it was easy that I would help you to take the book than you would achieve to get to that footstool. Besides, it’s a very interesting book, I've read it several times in fact, because it is one of my favorites books on these issues ancient history," explained the young man.

Martin felt certainly interested in what the young man had said and was glad to hear that someone else would be interested in a lofty old book that even was dense for most people.

"My name is Martin Freeman" said the nice blond and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Freeman. My name is Benedict Cumberbatch and just I got back to London after a long trip through continental Europe. As soon as I arrived to London I wanted to come immediately to this library which has always been my favorite," said the young man.

"Oh Really? That sounds great, but I had not seen you around here before and even when this has been my favorite library for years. Also I frequent this place a lot," he said the blond admired.

"Surely that's because this is a very large library and well the truth is since fifteen years ago I had not come to this place. I realize that there have been many changes since my departure," said the young Benedict as he glanced around, but there were only shelves with books.

"Oh I see, it's just that the time I have to live here in London. I come from Hampshire, well indeed I was born there but I spent my childhood in Leeds. But long ago I decided to move to the capital," said the blond a little self-conscious. Benedict smiled.

"I see you are a very interesting man, I realize it due the books that you now carry under your arm," Benedict said taking a step closer to him again and the blond look up to meet his face again, the eyes of Benedict had an eerie glow and a beautiful color blue as the sea, deepened in a suggestive look.

Benedict was taller than him and he had dark brown hair and had slim figure and also he had a jovial demeanor that certainly made him distinguished. Benedict seemed to stand out from others and his presence made him feel a kind of subtle attraction that could not explain. Benedict certainly was a very handsome man but Martin could notice well that he looked a little younger than him.

"Oh thank you very much for the compliment. The truth is I'm investigating some things for a good purpose," he muttered the blond now a little shy.

"Then I guess you're a brilliant intellectual" said Benedict admired.

"Well I'm not exactly an intellectual or a student, much less a scholar, but I like to write in an amateur way and actually now I'm researching a lot about the folklore and history of Europe of the Middle Ages," said the blond. Benedict could feel the excitement in his eyes and smirked.

"That really sounds very interesting. These issues really passionate me too much and it is very gratifying to me to meet people who are also interested in learning about these exciting issues, especially a man who likes to write like you.

"Oh for me it is also interesting and somewhat unusual to meet people who have read these books so old" the blond said with a smile on his face again.

"I could help you to document more about these topics, I'm not the best nor the most expert but I know enough about events that had happened in Europe and around the world, the reigns, the aristocratic families, wars and some of the folklore. I can help you if you want, just now I have free time" Benedict kindly offered to help the blond man and he accepted willingly.

"It would be really great," Martin said glad.

A while later the two men sat together at the same table in the study room in the library. They spent several hours together reading some books, discovering new and interesting things, soaking up more knowledge, mutually sharing each data they encountered in those old pages. It was really a very enjoyable time for both and they lost track of time until the library forced them to get out because the doors would close for the day.

When they were outside the library, they found out the night had fallen. In the streets every lanterns lit the paths and boulevards where carriages passed and also there walked some elegant gentlemen with top hat. It was a cold day and the dew that spread through the air generated a thick mist.

"I can walk you home, the road can be a bit dangerous," Benedict said kindly and Martin turned to smile at him thankful.

"Thank you, we could have a short pleasant chat on the way meanwhile. It would be nice" muted the blond. Martin unconsciously felt a growing excitement in his chest; no one had ever accompanied him to home before, indeed anyone before had become his friend. But he could consider Benedict as a friend from now? It might be a little hasty and daring of his part. But certainly the short time since he had met Benedict had been a pleasure for him and could not deny that being with Benedict it was very nice, could almost dare to think that the two had hit it off very well from the first moment when they had shaken hands.

Both men went home together and indeed all the way they had a thousand more things to talk, sharing random comments and talking a little about each other. Unaware soon both began to enjoy much more in each other’s company. They both occasionally shared gazes of coquetry and subtle jokes.

Martin noticed that the young man had a nice face and a very attractive demeanor. Maybe the young Benedict could be his kind of man he liked. But at the same time, the blond withdrew his thoughts. Perhaps it was very bold of him to think something like that because he could not even be certain that Benedict had the same sexual orientation as him. He felt greatly embarrassed to himself. He felt a little stupid. He must not think so frivolously, much less for a man who just had just met that afternoon.

When they reached the building where it was the flat of Martin, both said goodbye with a simple reverence, like gentlemen, wishing goodnight each other with respect.

But with the passage of days, Martin realized that his attraction to Benedict increased and he could not help. Both had gathered together on a regular way, most of the time they had met in the library where they had gone to share long hours of study together. And soon Martin discovered that feeling was also reciprocated. It did not take long for Benedict began to show his interest, an interest that went far beyond a cordial relationship. Thus Martin and Benedict began dating, in a clandestine relationship even if they only could occasionally stroke hands under the table.

It had been only a few weeks since they had met and now suddenly they were a couple of two men who hid his homosexuality from the rest of society. The blond felt greatly comforted by getting such an achievement, but at the same time he felt incredulous because he never before had imagined achieve to have a relationship with someone. For him, it almost seemed like a dream that still doubted it were real.

Martin told him more about it, about his parents who vaguely remembered, told about his uncles who had welcomed him in their family environment adopting him as a child and told him especially about his beloved cousin Charles and the wonderful childhood he had lived with him. Also told him about the pleasant coexistence in Leeds they had had together discovering their adventurous concerns puberty, triggered after by adolescence until both became men and told how the death had snatched his cousin from his hands because of a cruel disease and vertiginous.

_Memento mori_

Martin had never told anyone about his cousin because he had never felt the need to do so and because he had never felt the closeness and trust enough to tell someone. But he had told Benedict soon. And he had shown him the picture, that precious portrait that he guarded with suspicion and affection on the wall just above the dresser of his small bedroom, so he can see it every day and every night in memory of his cousin. His image reflected on the glass plate surely still had part of his soul. A part of the soul of his cousin would be forever in that monochromatic image, captured for posterity, and so his cousin always would remain young in his eyes, he would look forever as a sixteen young guy, the same age he was when had expired. That part of his soul would remain with him always, that portrait had accompanied him since then and would accompany him to the end of his days.

He showed it to Benedict. He had shown him, something so intimate and valuable as that, he had shown. And Benedict had outlined an affable smile on his lips when Martin had finished talking about his past and about his routine life in London since then.

Benedict had realized the great feelings that Martin had and then he was sure he was a good man, selfless and sadly alone. But he was now there for him, to accompany him and share their good times and their concerns. Now he was there to love him.

"I miss him too much. Even though many years have passed I still think of him as if it were yesterday the last time I saw him alive," he muttered Martin melancholy, while gently stroked the portrait of his late cousin.

"And you have not thought about returning to visit his grave?" Benedict asked.

"So in fact it has been a long time since I have not seen it. It has been more than two decades since I visited it for last time. I stopped by the pain it caused me to think to be in front that cold tomb, and since I moved here in London avoided even to think go back. But I guess it's time to pay a visit again. "

"I can accompany you if you so desire, you know I'll always support you and be by your side" affectionate Benedict said.

"Thank you Ben, that really would make me feel pretty good," he said the blond in response, he felt happy that Benedict always offered his support.

Martin made a space in his schedule to go to visit the city where he had spent his childhood and took from the bank a portion of his savings year to take a train. But at the end, Benedict could not be able to accompany him because he should address important issues in his work. Benedict was currently working on a newspaper as a journalist. He was a commentator and a historian. His position demanded some importance so he could not take a couple of days off to accompany the blond, much less specific for that week because he must to write some important articles.

He apologized for the inconvenience with Martin and Martin understood it without problem. A Wednesday afternoon, Martin took the railroad station that reach Leeds in the morning. So he could visit the cemetery where the grave of his cousin was when the morning began.

The trip to that city took place without problems. Martin arrived at Leeds station near 5:00 am in order to stay a couple of days in this city where he had not been for two decades. The warm breath of Martin condensed in the cold morning air as he left the station.

When daylight began to illuminate the region, Martin noticed certainly everything around had changed in his absence. Gradually it was becoming a more populous city; it was a remarkable city in transition.

By the time Martin was back in the cemetery, which had avoided for more than two decades, melancholy assailed him. And as he approached the grave where remained the mortal rest of his beloved cousin dead his melancholy increased. Suddenly he believed that with the remains of his cousin had been buried as well all the wonderful moments they had lived together, although those memories still remained vivid in his mind.

Martin finally came to the right place. From a few feet before reaching the tomb, Martin could recognize perfectly that dark stone, now lying damaged by the passage of time and covered with tangled grasses around. He walked slowly to it and to be closer to read the inscription with the name of his cousin and the date of his life and death. No doubted to touch the cold tombstone and gently caressed the tomb for a moment while by his restless face rolled a tear. He was overcome by the inevitable punishment that the memory of his cousin caused to him.

"Surely you've loved him a lot," he muttered suddenly an unknown male voice right behind him. Martin did not immediately turned to see who had said that, but when he turned to see a few seconds after, he realized that it was an elegant man, clothing in black and with dark, long hair. The man was tall, maybe he was a head taller than Martin, wearing a top hat and a pair of dark glasses tinted in scarlet, with round frame. A thick beard covered his face, a perfectly trimmed beard that made him look strong and attractive.

"That's a fact ... sir," he whispered the blond in response, a bit doubtfully. The strange man showed a languid smile on his face. Martin turned in front of him, trying to recognize if he was a known but soon he noticed that he had not seen him before.

"I can see it in your eyes," he whispered the stranger. Martin was intrigued by his gloomy look; suddenly he felt a strange sensation as someone it feels to have an irrational fear of the dark of night.

"He was a very dear cousin for me, but death took him from me long ago," he mumbled the unresolved blond; he did not really know what to say or how to act.

The strange man slowly approached him. Martin felt well that his black attire were very elegant and even seemed a bit old, but he thought at the time that maybe in Leeds certainly they did not have the same fashion that they had in London.

"Charles was very young, right?" He inquired the elegant Gothic-looking man. Martin made an inevitable expression of surprise on his face. The man had pronounced the name of his late cousin. But perhaps it was likely he had read the name written on the tombstone before.

"Yeah, that was really a pity, it remains even after more than twenty years that have passed" muttered the blond doubtful.

"Memento mori. Life can be so ephemeral, so fast" he whispered the strange man while Martin had turned for a moment back to look and touch the tombstone, outlining a little with his fingers the point where it was written the name of Charles.

Listening to the words spoken by the elegant mysterious man, Martin felt a kind of chill. The man's voice sounded cavernous despite the low tone of his intonation.

"His life was fast, he was full of so much life and joy...he was so young" he mumbled shakily the blond. Now reluctant he tangled the herb between his phalanges.

"Death is always tragic, especially for those beloved ones closest to the person. Any death is always a pitiful pity, but it's even more painful if the dead person was very young."

The words of the unknown had sounded even gloomier than before.

And when Martin turned to answer, to his enormous surprise, the strange man had disappeared.

…………………………………………………….

After a brief stay in the city where he had grown, Martin successfully returned to London. Benedict warmly greeted him at the station, intending to know from his own voice how he had been visiting the old city and the tomb of his beloved cousin.

Martin told him everything what had happened during his visit had been all right, told he had traveled the ancient streets which he had not walked during years and told he had stopped to see the old house where he had lived with his cousin and his uncles when they adopted him. Martin told him how much had changed each site, told him about the state he had found the abandoned tomb of Charles and had striven to clean it up a bit. But he omitted to tell about the strange man he had met on the first day he had arrived at the cemetery. Still he felt the fear that this strange man had caused him.

Martin had spent the last few days thinking about the strange and inexplicable event, certainly the man had vanished into thin air. Martin had lost all clue of him in an instant. And sometimes he thought that everything really was just a delusion of him, a rare product of his imagination. But he could not forget every detail of the appearance of this strange man, even though he had not been able to glimpse his face carefully because it was partially covered with dark glasses.

The strange recall intruded deeper into his mind especially at night, when he lay on his bed to rest. Martin could not take his mind the dark look of that strange man.

But the blond refused again, even to himself, the fact that the second day he had attended to visit that old cemetery he had believed to see suddenly with the corner of the eye a kind of faint dark shadow passing beside him to enter within a Gothic crypt that then that shadow had vanished. But he was not sure of that at all.

Now he had returned to London, he should continue his daily life and activities that provided him with the resources to live. And during that time his life beside Benedict certainly became more intense.

With each passed day, both knew more about each other. Their relationship increasingly was better. Neither of both could regret of it, even though they are unable to demonstrate their love in front of others.

Benedict also told about him. He said he was born into a wealthy family that owned real well in the city and some nearby. His family owned shops of regulates prestige. But he had been sent to study abroad the country and outside the UK. Therefore, Benedict had learned a lot about other regions and other cultures. He had been in Hungary for over ten years, because after completing his studies there he had managed to establish a good life in Budapest. But his desire to return to his hometown had brought him back and had decided to live in England again. And after meeting Martin he had decided that it would make his final decision.

However, Martin sometimes felt a little iffy about it because in fact Benedict also was five years younger than him. Also he thought it would fill him with shame confess that he had never had had any sexual experience with anyone although next month he would be forty years old.

With Benedict, Martin first experienced these strange pleasurable sensations in his chest and stomach that usually is caused by the adolescent infatuation. Benedict was his first partner, and with him he also experienced his first kiss. Perhaps he could also get to experience with him what bothered him so much, knowledge of carnal delivery, sharing of rubbing wet sheets after a passionate sex.

…………………………………………………….

It had spent a month since it had been the birthday of Martin number forty. He had a great celebration in the company of his boyfriend Benedict in a glorious enjoyment of coexistence. It had also been his first birthday with someone. It was the first time he had not had to buy a cake for himself having to endure the pride and shame caused him to go to the nearby bakery and to have to order in the cake they wrote his own name, always whispering softly to the employed as he winked forced in complicity. This time everything was totally different, wonderful, radiant. Benedict had surprised him with the cake before he could even realize. Seeing him come to his door with cake in hand had filled him with a new emotion that the blond wanted it endure forever. After leaving the cake on the table, Martin threw his arms on the shoulders of Benedict warmly and stood on tiptoes to kiss him in the privacy of his flat where they could show their mutually love , without the false appearance of being good friends that they showed to others.

But this placid birthday had been almost three weeks ago, the calendar placed on his kitchen wall marked the exact date of the beginning of the following month and now the blond was immersed in his writing inspired on one of his new writings with pen and ink. Martin had collected enough data that would serve as the basis for his novel that yet had not started writing in shape. For now, his texts just were limited to ideas and concepts that he could not join at all. Despite his great inspiration and dedication, Martin felt that there was still a kind of plot hole in his drafts, but he did not know why. And the context in which he had begun to develop it perhaps was not entirely appealing to the reader. Soon he intuited that his main character needed to be endowed with many more qualities, but although he had been studying a lot about the culture and European folklore probably he still had not found the real sources of inspiration.

"How is your progress with your novel today, Martin?" Benedict asked with interest, as he approached the blond gradually. Martin did not pay immediate attention to his question because at that moment he was reviewing what he had managed to write that day. Benedict had to ask a second time for Martin listen to him and leave a little of his distraction.

"Oh sorry, sorry, I did not hear you" the blond muttered, turning to see him. Benedict drew up a chair and sat beside him.

"I have served tea, do you want to take a little? You've been quite some time immersed in all this, you've been here writing since early in the morning. And now your face looks worn down" Benedict said with softened voice. He was worried.

"Thank you Ben, yes, maybe I could drink a little of tea" the blond said kindly, indeed on his face could be noticed certain weariness, despite the night had not yet fallen. But he was not about to stop writing because that day he had especially fresh ideas in mind. Martin wanted to continue writing despite his exhaustion.

"And then what's it going on your writing?" Benedict asked again as he brought the tea served in a porcelain cup on a tray and brought it to him closer. Beside also he placed a small bowl with some biscuits. Martin took one and nibbled a little.

"Well, I thought that I had advanced on it quite, but now I do not see it. I feel like I would have written almost nothing, as if it had a huge plot hole in all that I have written. And the characters do not convince me at all," said the disappointed blond, his slow voice showed depletion.

"But I see very good progress in your work, I really admire that. Martin, you've been working very hard on this and I know how important this is for you, but why do not you take a break? Maybe so ideas can flow better and then you can start again as the writings can expound your ideas better" Benedict suggested with softened voice while he began to stroke Martin's hand in subtle way over the table. Martin's hand had moved with the intention of taking the cup, and he had found the soft subtle caress of his boyfriend before he could do so. Benedict was always so understood with him, Martin at last felt really supported and loved by someone.

"Yes, you’re probably right. I guess to take a short break could be well after all" the blond muttered, trying to stifle a yawn. Now he was who stroked Benedict's hand with more intention and gave him a look of coquetry that Benedict corresponded. Martin then carefully took his tea, the hot tea was a very well prepared, it was just delicious and the blond enjoyed its taste. Benedict enjoyed watching his profile, enjoyed contemplate every detail of his serene face.

"Well, what do you think if today you rest a bit and tomorrow night I take you to the theater? I have good friends actors there who are about to present a new play. Also I must do a chronicle of that function to be released tomorrow night. It surely could be very enjoyable and interesting for both," Benedict said.

Martin sipped more of the content of his cup before replying to his proposal. The idea seemed quite good.

"Actually it sounds pretty interesting," said the blond at last.

"It is a classic gothic romance script. Sure you will like" Benedict muttered and gently stroked his back softly. Martin felt a subtle inner emotion by the soft contact. Both really enjoyed each other's company so much but the true was they had not yet had a more intimate encounter, even nor even more than to do caresses mutually of their hands together and kisses that sometimes deepened in passionate way. They had not been together in bed though each of them had already considered to themselves. But neither of them dared to talk about it or not even insinuate. Martin was reluctant to mention to have sex due to modesty and shame that caused him to be a virgin man at forty year old and for his part, Benedict retained the idea that it was too early to take that step because just a few weeks ago they had met each other. Benedict was a man considered.

That night Benedict decided to leave the flat of the blond early to let him rest and Martin decided to go to bed rather sooner than usual and as soon as he was lay under the blankets of his bed he fell asleep in deep sleep. His subconscious was filled with strange, eccentric, psychedelic and perhaps prophetic dreams. When Martin woke the next morning a few of those dreams he could remember seemed to be so strange that almost seemed a sort of guessing ahead or toward a life that had been in another dimension. But maybe it was just part of his imagination or maybe product of his comprehensive stress.

Martin got out of bed as usual and then dressed. After he finished the breakfast he decided to continue some of his writings that had advanced. For days he did not have a job, even had no a small one as usual so he had some free time. Also always he had some savings in home and in the bank, which served him to live modestly but with everything he needed. Also in recent days Martin had had some success with his short stories and other stories because he had gotten a famous magazine would publish some of them occasionally. This was precisely one day he would go to deliver one to a minor publisher.

The blond finished checking it on his desk, carefully observing everything was in order and carefully put the typewritten in a yellow envelope. He soon left his flat and headed to the main office of the publication of the magazine. That was one of the most prestigious magazines of the time, it provided the public those famous novels of the nineteenth century that all people enjoyed reading eagerly. Also they added, of course, short stories and editorial managers had considered that the writings of the blond had a high potential.

But Martin was saving his best to write his true long novel.

He left the order to the office on time point and then returned to his flat to continue with his daily activities. Later, before night fell he would meet Benedict who would take the theater as he had promised. In addition, the blond had been thinking that maybe this could be a wonderful evening.

To think about Benedict it made him feel happy, his face could not fade a big smile every time he remembered his closeness, his presence attracted him and made him feel safe and beloved, protected; He could not stop thinking about the bluish look of Benedict devoted only to him, a deep look in which he could see clearly reflected that his feeling was reciprocated. Martin was very happy to have found the indicated a man who had accepted him as he was, with all his unresolved past and also Benedict intoxicated him with kisses at all times. Maybe tonight could be more glorious than he had planned, maybe tonight Martin could make himself the same suggestion to invite him to his bed and then make love. It really could be a wonderful evening. Martin could not help get blush a little to think about it, not even having just turned forty years old he could not help feeling an intense furor almost so strong that he would have feel when he was teenager. The love he now felt by Benedict was not even remotely compared with that sublime love he felt for his cousin in distant years. It was something intense, but really different.

Almost at nightfall, someone knocked on the front door of his flat and Martin went quickly to open. He guessed that it was Benedict and surely he had arrived on time. Then Martin opened the door and greeted him with an effusive hug, showing his total affection and emotion and Benedict corresponded glad. But they avoided showing more than that on the threshold; anyone could go through the corridor of the building and see their close expressions of affection that everyone would take too bad even if it was even just a quick kiss on the cheek. They must live like this, hiding from everyone, keeping up appearances that they unleashed in enthusiastic affection after close the door once they were inside the house. So far they had been cautious enough so that everyone considered them only good friends.

They went inside the flat of Martin and there in the living room were together and at last their lips joined in a sweet kiss, which lasted for a few glorious minutes.

"We go now?" Benedict asked with whispering voice as his lips still were licking a little after enjoying that longed sweet kiss. Martin smiled at him and was lost for a moment in his gorgeous blue eyes before to speak a word assertive in response.

"Of course. I'm ready, let us go now" he mumbled the blond, still embraced Benedict.

"Then let's go and enjoy the night" Benedict said with a soft voice and suggestive tone, as both held hands briefly before opening the door and get out to the street.

They took a taxi outside. The carriage pulled by beautiful horses brown was comfortable enough, maybe it was new and it was a mere detail but comforting for a night that would be the most special.

Soon they came to the right place. Outside the theater they realized that elegant people who also attended were gathering to enter. Both, Martin and Benedict would have liked to walk down the street holding hands as the happy couples of ladies and gentlemen in place did, but they just could not do it, it was the cruel price of their relationship.

They took their place in line, and despite the amount of people gathered, soon they entered the theater building.

Just to reach the threshold, suddenly Benedict saw something with some surprise and excitement and Martin discovered that it was an elegant man dressed in elegant tuxedo and top hat and Benedict approached him to greet him promptly.

"Wait a minute please, Martin" Benedict said, he could not help to show his joy and then politely made a call to the man he had seen. It was an elegant gentleman, dressed in elegant clothes in burgundy color, that darkened color almost seemed black but under the light looked in a beautiful shade of dark red purple and the man also wore a top hat which was perfect with the suit. Before the man noticed the presence of Benedict, Martin could realize that man was taller than his boyfriend and he had an attractive herculean body. The mysterious man turned as Benedict called him by name and greeted him with respect. Martin remained in place waiting for Benedict. Until then he had not been able to make out the face of the mysterious gentleman well as people passing in front him and obstructed the view a little. He could only reach to see a bit how Benedict spoke to the tall gentleman.

But soon Benedict returned to where Martin was waiting for him, and returned with the elegant gentleman who had followed him. The area cleared some of the people at that time and that was when Martin saw the man's face for the first time.

But strangely, Martin found out the face of that refined gentleman seemed a bit familiar. The man had a gorgeous male profile; he was really attractive and had a clean-shaven face.

"Oh sorry, Martin, I introduce to you the Count Richard Armitage, he is a friend of mine. In fact I do not know how I should introduce him to you correctly because, Mr. Armitage is a noble man," Benedict said presenting him cordially to that man. Martin smiled awkwardly friendly and extended his left hand to greet him warmly, but soon he realized his clumsiness and quickly withdrew to extend his right hand. He was left-handed and sometimes forgot to shake hands with people with right hand. But before he could change his hand, to his surprise the gloomy and attractive man also saluted him with his left hand. Perhaps he was also left handed or perhaps he just had guessed Martin was, but that would have been too strange.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," muttered Martin embarrassed, looking up at the face of the elegant gentleman, because the difference in their heights was considerable. The elegant gentleman smirked a bit and returned his greeting, shaking his hand with his.

"Richard, he is Mr. Martin Freeman, a very good friend of mine," said Benedict serene. Richard smiled again, this time more sharply.

"The pleasure is mine," said the distinguished Mr. Richard, his voice sounded seductively soft. Without explaining why, Martin remained a little astonished to hear that deep voice and hesitated before speaking again. His hands remained united in this greeting for a few seconds in which Martin was lost for the first time in the deep look of the strange Mr. Richard.

Richard had an elegant bearing, elegant and refined and a serious face that was very attractive to anyone. And his hand felt cold.

Although his hands were elegantly covered by fine soft satin gloves, Martin could feel his hand cold. Besides, seeing him into the eyes, Martin also found out that Mr. Armitage had beautiful blue eyes like sapphires, of a different blue to those of Benedict and without explanation might even he could think they were much more impressive. And Martin felt that perhaps he had already known those eyes before, not so long ago. But he could not explain from where.

Martin could feel the gaze of the unknown gentleman fixed on him. It was a sharp, seductive, a bewitching look.

The mysterious Mr. Richard raised slightly his hat as a sign of respectful reverence and Martin did the same.

"This really will be a prodigious night, Mr. Freeman."

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you have enjoyed the start of this new fic. I had wanted to publish it for some time, even after I decided to start publishing on halloween but I was not able to do it. The chapter was too long so I had to split it into two parts so I'll update soon, because the second chapter I have practically ready :)
> 
> All your comments are welcome ;)
> 
> and apologize if I made mistakes, english is not my first language, I always try my best :)


	2. Elixir of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Martin cannot help but feel terribly attracted by the deep and bluish look of the handsome Count Richard, a look that will follow him to his deepest dreams at night. Soon the blond will discover that the title of distinguished nobility of the Count belongs to one of the oldest families in Europe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to dedicate this chapter for my dearest friend Bianca Bagginshield because she always shares this love for Thilbo/Richartin with me and for that I love her too much :) we and thilbo/Richartin against the world forever!

                                                                   

 

 

**Chapter 2—Elixir of Life**

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Count Richard remained balanced without losing his refined demeanor. The attractive and mysterious gentleman would not stop watching the blond who was in front him and smiled at him in malicious way. Noticing his expression on his face and intimidating look, Martin could only think for a moment that he was an imperious man with good manners.

"Martin, The Count Richard is a major owner of one of the most prodigious magazine in London and England. Richard owns the chain of publications for which I work and he is a man whom I have very good estimates" Benedict said.

"Oh seriously? That's really interesting. I'm really surprised" the blond expressed with admiration but also greatly astonished because suddenly he could not explain why all this time Benedict had never spoken to him about such an important gentleman.

"Benedict has already told me about you, Mr. Freeman and I've had the opportunity to read some of your lofty writings, really very enjoyable although it is a pity they are somewhat short, I'm always looking forward to read more," Richard said with sincerity and dropping a short laugh seemingly shy but he never stopped to sound appealing. Listening to pronounce that, coming from so elegant and important man, Martin felt greatly flattered and found his way of expressing himself after all not really seem to be that of an arrogant man.

"That's really a pleasant surprise, a gentleman like you likes to read my simple texts. It is very pleasant for me," said the blond.

"Maybe someday I can have the honor to publish one of your stories in my journal," Richard said. Martin smiled again, he was filled with excitement for such an offering and a sense of shame struck his chest. Suddenly the blond had to dodge a moment the look to avoid seeing Mr. Armitage at his face.

"I am very pleased you to consider me, sir, nothing would give me more pleasure and satisfaction than you allow me publish my stories in your journal. It fills me with great joy," said the blond. At that time Benedict took from his pocket his string with fine watch to see the time and he realized that the function was about to begin.

"Gentlemen, it's time to get to sit down. The function is about to begin," said Benedict and the two men obeyed his suggestion. They walked down the corridor and came to the amphitheater where they sat. From the place where they were among the first ranks, they could perfectly observe the play that would be presented in a while. People had filled almost all the stands and the stage curtain was lowered.

Benedict was sitting in a seat on the right side and Martin sat beside him, followed by the elegant Count Richard so Martin had been right in the middle of both. The site was semi dark and at one point amid the darkness blond could feel the hand of Benedict settle slowly on his right leg just in the moment the curtain began to rise, searching blindly to start caressing him with discreet finesse.

But even if a while ago Martin had wanted so much that happen  now he barely caught on to the intention of his boyfriend. Martin did not return him immediately, the reason was that he could not help feeling a little uneasy having the presence of Mr. Richard right beside him. The feeling of excitement produced by the flattery of the count still was invading all his emotions. Martin could almost daring to think he could feel his breath up close and in the dim light that reached to illuminate a little, he could observe his fine, manly profile. Martin felt foolishly attracted by the elegant man, though perhaps it was only the growing excitement he felt to know that Count Richard was an important man who besides had shown immediate and sincere interest in his writings. With that Martin might have the opportunity of a lifetime to venture much his literary career and should use it.

The play was performed, the staging was wonderful, sublime, unparalleled work that Martin especially enjoyed tremendously. Not long ago that Martin was so excited to see a play and he had felt pretty good to not be alone.

The amphitheater was filled with applause and thanked and the actors pleasing audiences with bows.

When everything finally ended, people began to leave the theater in respectful order. Benedict, Martin and the elegant Count Richard also did, without losing the elegance of their steps. When they were outside the building they were willing to spend together more time elsewhere and continue to enjoy a good conversation, maybe talking about the play or perhaps speaking more about the work of written disclosure that connected them, for it was still a little early.

"Please come to join me for dinner tonight, gentlemen. I will receive you gladly under my roof" The Count Richard said with docile elegance. Benedict smiled in acceptance and nodded.

"That would be really good, Richard. What do you think, Martin?" Benedict asked, unaware that at that moment Martin was lost again, for an instant, in depep bluish look of Count Richard.

"Oh, for me that’s fine," Martin mumbled in response, without leaving from his distraction at all, but the Count Richard continued to stare at him intently, almost intended to provoke him to continue sharing subtle glances that he really enjoyed.

"Gentlemen then let us go, I invite you into my carriage that is waiting for us now," said Count Richard, indicating that the beautiful black carriage drawn by horses was waiting for them just across the sidewalk. Richard set his top hat touching the brim with elegance and with persuasive gaze told them to follow him. Benedict followed him immediately and Martin followed his path, aimless settling his bowler hat. The three men crossed narrow street towards the other side and just opposite the gig, the vassal cordially opened the door of the carriage. It was a very fine and elegant carriage in outside, made of fine wood, which was even more elegant inside. The seats were covered in crimson velvet with so soft texture that incited to touch it all the time. Martin felt very comfortable inside, the smell of new wood rose up to his face, and he felt attracted to carefully observe every part of the interior of the car. Benedict for his part was a bit accustomed to traveling with this luxury because he already had had the opportunity to be in the same carriage on several occasions since Count Richard had acquired it, only a couple of weeks ago.

After both men ended of accommodate within the carriage, Richard also climbed into the car. Martin watched him from the first time the Count had set foot inside and noticed that the count never lost his bearing of attractive elegance even to sit down.

Richard sighed when he finished to sit and then leaned slowly on the seat and look at the blond noticing he was a little self-conscious helplessly. The Count smiled mischievously at him and Martin had to pretend a little cough to denote no more nervousness.

During the trip, there were not many words between them. Martin and Benedict were sitting together in the same seat as the Count Richard had just taken a seat across from them on the other seat, smiling with all the gallantry which distinguished him. Martin could not help admiring his face sideways, really he seemed very attractive but could also feel a dense and captivating aura around him despite his behavior denoted good manners all the time. And although he wanted to avoid, he often returned his gaze to meet his. Martin had been so captivated by the man and all this time he had not desired to be touched by Benedict, nor felt need of his proximity as already it was usual, it was as if all those fervent feelings that accompanied him every day for being with his boyfriend, hour after hour they had suddenly been overshadowed by the personality and demeanor of this distinguished and mysterious tall dark-haired gentleman who had just met that evening by chance.

The carriage continued to advance, through the streets of London at that time had filled by some fog as it was usual at that time of year. The awkward silence reigned inside the carriage that was only interrupted by the sound of trotting horses and the carriage wheels advancing on the pavement. And all the way Martin sometimes could not help tinkering with his fingers over his knees due his nervousness because Richard’s look on the blond never ceased to be pervasive.

"We have arrived, gentlemen" Count Richard said as the carriage finally stopped. The vassal was quick to lose his place and immediately opened the car door politely for them.

"Oh well, let’s go Martin" muttered Benedict and Martin nodded. First out of the carriage was Count Richard, then followed him Benedict and end when Martin was about to get out, to his surprise, Count Richard offered him assistance taking his hand to help Martin to get out before giving the opportunity to Benedict to do it, who only could observed how Richard helped the blond. Martin was also surprised by the sudden and emotional action of Count Richard and his gaze met again with his in a much closer to the one they had had before. Their faces were facing while Martin felt his gloved hand slightly squeezing his arm to help him down. And while his eyes were fixed on his, Count Richard smiled a great smile to him again. Martin did not know what to do and then he realized just for a second that Richard had a strange flash of light in the brightness of his eyes, a glowing brilliance that he could notice only for a moment. At that moment Martin thought this had been definitely a little supernatural.

"Allow me help you, Mr. Freeman," The Count Richard muttered quietly and carefully polite.

"Oh thank you, sir," he mumbled the blond, letting him to be helped for the Count, until he was completely out of the vehicle.

Benedict realized that both were having a good treat, in that simple act, but until then nothing seemed strange because Benedict knew well the Count Richard always had this kind of gentle manners at any time with everyone. The Count Richard always was a completely gentleman.

Martin felt again a little hesitant and when he was completely stood on the pavement of the sidewalk, set his bowler hat.

"Follow me, gentlemen, please," said Richard and walked to the hall of his residence made in a splendid Gothic style. At the entrance they were waiting for them a couple of servants who greeted them reverently and respectfully and called Richard _master_. Richard slightly tilted the brim of his top hat to them, he smiled and walked on. Martin and Benedict followed him and then the vassal pulled the carriage there in order to keep it in the garage.

The three men arrived soon the main doorway of the house and the Count Richard knocked on the door. Soon a servant opened and the three entered the house.

Inside, the residence was far more luxurious than the facade. Martin marveled at its beauty and Gothic decoration, which by then was already a bit in decline especially due the class struggle, brought about by the rise of the growing Industrial Revolution. In addition, for Martin all that was totally eccentric to know someone who belonged to a higher rank than the simple bourgeois. Richard was a Count and that was fascinating.

When the three men were in the corridor that connected the living room Count Richard took off his top hat and gave it to one of the servants to keep, while Benedict and Martin placed their hats on the rack.

The upholstery on the walls was a dark shade, probably during the day this caused that there was no too much light but for now the corridor and room were lit by long candles placed near walls.

Richard invited them to take a seat when they entered the living room. Benedict and Martin obeyed his request and sat comfortably on one of the couches in the living and Richard did the same in the main armchair. The couches were also covered in soft velvet with decorated texture and they had comfortable backrests allowing the body to rest well.

"I hope you feel comfortable gentlemen like home" friendly Richard said.

"Of course, Richard. You know it's always very comfortable being at your home" Benedict said.

"It's a very nice house," said the blond in addition. The Count Richard grinned and gave a little giggle of satisfaction.

"Would you like a drink?" He inquired the Count at last and the two men nodded politely.

Then the Count Richard ordered some of his servants to serve to the three a little of drink.

"Feel comfortable being at home," said Richard warmly. Soon his butler returned with a tray in hand with a bottle of good wine harvest and three glasses of cut crystal and after placing the tray on a small table near, the butler served in each glass a little of wine. The butler reached their glasses when he finished serving them and both, Martin and Benedict thanked him with respect.

"Thank you for inviting us to your house tonight, Sir Count," said the blond.

"You always are very welcome, I hope you like the wine Mr. Freeman" said the Count Richard smirking.

Benedict was the first who started to drink the wine. Then the blond did the same but somewhat he still was irresolute as the Count staggered with subtle elegance his glass with one hand.

Not too long after Benedict and the Count Richard began to talk a little about some of the issues that they had been preparing in recent weeks in the editorial, then Martin knew that Benedict and Richard work together in very relevant newspaper articles so he felt more intrigued to know why Benedict had never spoken to him about it. With the passage of minutes, the curiosity of Martin to know why Benedict had hidden it was becoming a kind of resentment.

"I will try to have ready for today the chronicles about the staging that we have seen today," said Benedict to Richard "and I'll write it using the format you indicated me, Richard."

"it is fine Ben, anyway you know there's no rush yet. Take your time please" Richard said in response, without turning much to face him because his eyes seemed more focused on watching from the large window of his room the amazing brightness of full moon that night, jutting into the sky, despite the haze. Listening that, Martin realized that despite the great British English spoken by the mysterious gentleman was exquisite to ears of anyone sometimes seemed to deviate in an accent that was definitely of abroad. He stopped to think that maybe the Count Richard was not English nor British after all, though he could almost pass unnoticed.

"Well, but, I would not want to continue excluding Mr. Freeman of our talks," said Richard "maybe all these talks about the business are boring him and we had proposed to have fun all together tonight," he muttered as he took off his attention from the brightness of the moon to turn to where his two guests were sitting.

"Oh do not worry sir, I'm just a guest," said the blond.

"A very special guest, remember that I mentioned that I am very adept at reading your novels and your other short stories Mr. Freeman, is a great pleasure for me to read your writings," Richard said. Martin felt even more flattered than before, the way Richard had said that it was far more inviting than before.

"That greatly enhances me, sir Count" the blond said.

"I am glad to hear it, so I hope we can have a good talk about you and your works," he muttered the Count and immediately he took a sip from his glass of wine.

"Of course," he muttered Martin now a little self-conscious, at that moment the Count returned his gaze on him and enjoyed to admire his shyness. Martin always looked cautious and that seemed wonderful.

"Then let's talk about those wonderful works of you, Mr. Freeman."

"Well, you have you told me you love my stories..." said Martin.

"I have indeed enjoyed all of them. Are you currently writing something new? I'm really interested to read your next writing" confessed the Count.

"Oh yes. In fact, right now I'm writing a new one that pretends to be longer, this is a novel," said the blond.

"Martin has been documented much for a while to write this special novel" Benedict said. He had internally had the urge to interrupt.

"That sounds really interesting; I'd love to know what is the topic or the concept of his new novel, gothic romance perhaps? I have noticed your great interest in these issues," Richard asked curious to know.

"Not at all, I pretend to have a darker plot this time, a kind of suspense. You may think this sounds silly, but I would like to write something with supernatural issues. That's why I've been investigating very thoroughly about the extensive World folklore, specifically folklore of continental Europe, which is totally fascinating" explained the blond visibly moved.

Richard could not help but outlined a smile on his lips that denoted with a touch of malice and then he drank a little of his drink again.

"Then you are interested in ancient culture, I guess. Surely you are interested in stories based on oral transmission that have given way to some legends in the old European peoples" Richard said.

Martin leaned back slightly in his seat, he was more excited because the Count had guessed what his real purpose was and Martin returned his gaze on the face of the strange man and he continued.

"Indeed, I have sought even in very old books," said the blond, trying to clarify a little his voice.

During that time, Benedict only was hearing the conversation of both, despite his arbitrary concern he knew well he should not interrupt in the interesting conversation between his blond boyfriend and the important Count Richard. Benedict knew that this matter was extremely important for Martin.

"Then I think I could show you a special collection that I have right here in my home, Mr. Freeman, I think you really could be very interested in that. I have a lot of books of which there are many books considerably ancient that have been acquired by my family for generations," said the Count.

Martin was filled even more with internal emotion, but also blushed at the suggestion that Richard had done. Martin could not help but feel intimidated because the Count never failed to smile with so persuasive malice.

"That would be really gratifying and heartwarming," said the blond sincerely in response. To distract some of his concern Martin sipped his drink, every time Richard had watched at him, he felt a strange feeling crossing his entire chest, mastering all his mind and senses.

Although Richard's gaze was calm, sometimes he could perceive it as a kind of icy breath that seemed intent to bare his body. Richard's gaze was attractive like a magnet. Martin felt vulnerable to those mysterious eyes like sapphires.

For a moment there was a brief awkward silence in the room that was later interrupted by Benedict.

"Surely there is no person best suited for that than you, Richard because you're from Romania, of a very ancient lineage connected to many branches of various important families in Europe," said Benedict. Martin was surprised to learn it and then realized why Richard had a slightly strange accent every time he uttered a few words.

"Yes, that's true," Richard said. "I could even invite you to my homelands one day ... Mr. Freeman. I think it would help you to know much closer legends and tales passed down by oral tradition. I hope it may be possible in the not too distant future. It would be a great pleasure for me, suggestive Richard said.

 "Oh, I would be glad, but I hope you do not think I'm thinking to take advantage of the situation, I mean I'm just a simple writer and you are an important man, besides you are a Count...." the blond said hesitated, certainly inside he was terribly excited. He could not help it.

Richard smirked again and placed his provocative look at the embarrassed blond.

"No way, well you are my guests and I mentioned that I feel a special admiration for you, Mr. Freeman. You do not know how much your writings have captivated me, they are romantic and beautiful, provide with lofty prose and with a light touch dark and I have met you in person tonight and that fills me with joy," said Richard provocative.

Martin feels even more flattered, Richard's voice to pronounce it was almost intoxicating. But suddenly he thought he was just carried away by the emotion of the moment and it should not to be so, he realized that he had only to pay attention to all movements and expressions that the count was doing and had almost downplayed the presence of Benedict, who was also there with them and that was his partner

The wonderful evening that he thought to be with his partner that had even proposed as an important night of sex, had become a casual meeting, entertaining though strange, of both with a third gentleman whom never imagined getting to know. Unexpectedly the Count had a growing interest in him, and indeed, Martin could not help feeling a little annoyed that Benedict had never spoken to him about the Count.

The talk continued for a while, talking about the favorite stories of Count Richard that the blond had written from his beginnings to the present time, and soon it was midnight. The hands of the refined clock, which was across the living room said the hour and both Benedict and Martin decided they should leave.

"It is very late, we apologize Sir Count but I think it's time to go home" the blond said with a trembling voice and got up from his place, trying to hide any awkwardness because for that hour of the night alcohol had consumed had made him feel a little dizzy. Then Benedict and Richard also rose from their seats.

"It has been a very pleasant evening, a very bohemian and interesting talk and gave us great pleasure to have shared a visit to the theater tonight," Benedict said.

"It has been a pleasure, gentlemen. But hey, it's time to return to your respective homes. I am going to order my footman to bring you two to your homes without problem," he said Richard outlining a broad friendly smile. The count guided them to the exit of the house and being outside Richard shook hands with Benedict and then with Martin ant then said them goodbye. Soon they were inside the luxurious carriage to lead them to their respective homes.

"I wish you rest well, gentlemen, good night" said the Count and then Martin fixed his gaze on his again unable to avoid it; it was another strange impulse to try and get lost in his eyes. Then the Count closed the door and soon the carriage was pulled away and Martin continued looking him from the window until was not visible the figure of Count Richard. At that moment Martin believed glimpse again an unusual shine in his eyes, shining even with this distance, a truly strange and vivid brilliance that was not natural.

Then the Count turned and went inside the residence, the hall was closed and the carriage continued his march through the London fog. Martin then finally turned his attention to Benedict who was sitting beside him.

"How strange is that man," muttered Martin giving a brief sigh. Benedict smiled briefly with amused irony.

"haha, yes maybe he is a bit eccentric, I admit," replied Benedict a little laughable.

"Well I think more than that he has something a bit strange, but ... I do not mean that looks bad. Maybe it's just I'm not used to dealing with someone of that rank," admitted the blond.

"Well I just can admit that he is a bit strict in what you do, in publishing he always makes us work hard and under his own method and he always want we follow exactly the process he chooses, but otherwise as a friend he is a good man, cultured and very respectable. I think definitely it could get to please you enough" Benedict said.

"Oh and by the way why do not you told me before about this man? You never mentioned this important Count was your direct boss" asked the blond finally wanted to clear this doubt that disturbed him, and which in a way also annoyed him.

"Well, I wanted to talk about it several times, because I told him about you just three nights ago when he told me that day that he had enjoyed reading your last writing and I wanted to introduce you to him in person tonight, it would be a kind of surprise," muttered Benedict .

"So you talked about me to him ..." the blond inquired.

"It was much unexpected because suddenly at that time during that conversation he mentioned to me that he admired much your short stories that he had read them in various local publications and had just enjoyed reading the last one. He said the writer had much potential and then I told him that I knew the writer. That was you. I said I knew you and I said you were very close to me and then he felt very excited and then he told me more about your writing. Almost immediately he told me he wanted to hire you in the magazine but then I told him you just had got a job in another journal and although he showed his disappointment upon hearing it he said that anyway he wanted to meet you in person. Then he commissioned me to write a chronicle about the play we saw tonight in the auditorium and it was when we agreed that we would meet and he suggested inviting you tonight to this theater performance and then I introduce you with him. And I see that all ended in satisfactory results. I am delighted that he has offered to help you grow in this area. In fact I know Richard for years but being my boss and a person with noble title, he has always remained very secretive to spend a little unnoticed in ordinary society, so for that I never talked about him. "

Martin listened attentively to all the explanation that Benedict said. Now all sounded convincing, but he was still intrigued by personality of the Count and that strange environment in which this aristocrat man lived. And anyway Benedict had hidden it to him even being his boyfriend. He felt Benedict did not trust him.

Martin could not help thinking that Richard was indeed a strange man... but very attractive, to the point where in just one night that he had managed to attract him so strangely.

"Oh... it is interesting, I've taken a lot of surprises tonight," muttered Martin.

Benedict was relieved because Martin had understood without complaints and claims, then he paused to admire his face that still seemed assimilating his explanation. He loved to see that look on Martin and then brought his hand to his subtlety and tried to fondle his. At last they were alone and he wanted to have physical contact with the blond, he had to avoid to do it from the moment he had gone for him to take him the theater on the eve of the night. Benedict continued stroking his hand with greater intention, waiting for the response of the blond. Caress that felt great, though his hands were wearing gloves. He ventured to touch first Martin's phalanges above, but Martin did not immediately respond the way Benedict expected, yet he seemed almost lost in the distraction of his thoughts.

Soon Martin responded to it, but despite the blond had responded to the caress, Benedict could feel as if he did not eagerly. Benedict had a fleeting feeling apprehensive in the chest by the cold and inexplicably attitude of the blond and suddenly the carriage stopped. They had come just in front of the building where Martin lived.

"We've arrived Ben, I regret my foolishness. You know I love you. But now I feel extremely tired and maybe I'm more distracted than usual. It's not my intention, really," said the blond, very quietly but looking at the eyes to his boyfriend. Although Benedict felt a little discouraged, he tried to understand it, it was almost 1am after all and he also had to go to sleep. And then drank alcohol had failed to dissipate entirely from their bodies.

"Do not worry, Martin. Although I wish I could kiss you..." Benedict muttered softly whispering to his ear.

"I also want that Ben, but we cannot do it here, you know. And the carriage is waiting to take you home. It is not polite to do the lackey of the Count Richard waits for us" the blond said quietly. Benedict tried to resign but then decided to press him a little.

"Let's do it Martin, please, is nearly 1am, there are no people in the streets," Benedict said quietly, trying to persuade him, stroking his hand a little with subtlety.

"Ben, we cannot risk. Anyone could see us even if it were an instant" he replied the blond, trying to take a more serious attitude.

"Well, how about a brief brush?" Benedict breathed suggestive.

Martin hesitated before agreeing to his request, he took a quick look at the carriage that still was waiting for Benedict, then the footman seemed to be inspecting the horses a little so the blond finally agreed.

"Okay, but it very quickly," mumbled the blond, although not so convinced because the footman could see them at any time.

Benedict felt an inner joy and smiled to bring his face close to his early and stole a quick and brief kiss from his lips. Martin even closed his eyes and could barely feel the slightest touch of the lips of Benedict near the corner of his own. But they could not run the risk that someone discovered them, even the shadows of the night that could haunt the place or a neighbor with insomnia who could think then pry out the window.

But despite the brief touch of their lips, Benedict was very excited, even if he really wanted to deepen it in a passionate kiss. But Martin thought that it could wait for another day.

They said goodbye like gentlemen and then Benedict took the carriage. The horses set off and moved away from there in the middle of the night, into darkness and fog. When the noise of the wheels of the carriage moved, Martin entered the building and then to his small flat.

Being inside he felt the warmth of his home rose up by his face, which contrasted greatly with the cold that caused the fog, the old wooden floor creaked under his foot with every step and when he got to his room his eyes fell on the portrait that had cheated death, the portrait of his dead cousin who was looking at him from the front. It was the portrait where Charles seemed to be alive and not dead, wearing his best clothes gala with his empty eyes that received him every night.

Martin promptly removed his shoes and undressed, constantly looking back to the portrait of his deceased cousin. Death had always captivated him, fascinated, he felt attracted. Suddenly he wondered to himself if it could be possible to return from the death. He thought that if a mere invention of man could be able to capture an image for posterity and capture the essence (or soul) of the person, perhaps death insurance could also be fooled after all. He suddenly wondered if it could really be possible that a dead could back to life. But that was absurd, just zombies and vampires could rise from their graves and stop the process of festering corruption of their decomposing bodies to live an eternal life feeding on the blood and body of mortals. And those things could only happen in fantasy stories, as they existed in tales of such gothic romance and legends transmitted by the remote villages since time immemorial, just like it would happen in his next new novel which would talk about those life-suckers who everyone had called vampires for centuries.

He pondered in thought for a while before being able to sleep. Martin was tossing and turning in bed for a while, he could not fall into lethargy. He feared not being able to sleep until dawn. Outside the wind began howled and made gradually move the leaves of the tree that was right outside his window. From his bed Martin could see that the wind stirred the leaves. The light of the full moon partially illuminated the window, letting his light between the bars that protected it. Martin could also see the shadow of the leaves of the trees moving back and forth. In a moment the blond finally could feel the heaviness of his eyelids fall over his eyes, forcing him to close them gradually to fall into dreams. But, before falling fast asleep, Martin had the strange feeling of being watched, he had a feeling that someone had been contemplating him... but he knew that was absurd and tried to convince himself that it was not true. He was alone. He lived alone on the third level of the modest building.

But perhaps his instincts were not completely wrong because when the blond was completely rendered by drowsiness, unknowingly, from the other side of the window, a pair of bright eyes appeared in the darkness, a supernatural eyes shining strongly as flames. This was a man who had done an infernal pact in exchange for living an eternal life. And this creature had fixed his total interest in him.

………………………………………………

A couple of eyes flashing in crimson glow continued seeing the blond asleep. Gradually this spectrum was acquiring a dim human form, male and strong, the shape of a man with dark hair and manly profile. The creature had the form of attractive Count Richard.

The Count Richard was actually an undead and he was out that night as usual in search of the source that provided him and kept him alive. Every night he was looking for victims to drink their blood from their necks to satisfy his voracious hunger.

The blood was the source of life but above all was the source of his infernal existence. He had been sentenced to drink blood for eternity in exchange for all the powers conferred upon him from hell since time immemorial and for posterity. The blood was the nectar that rejuvenated him and that even after centuries kept him wandering the world, in his cursed condition of undead. He was a vampire, the proof that after all those nefarious creatures of tales really existed in real life.

Hidden in the shadows of the cold night, floating outside the window of the blond's bedroom, the vampire would not stop to admire the beauty that Martin had even while he was sleeping. Seeing him so vulnerable and immersed in his sleep he looked much more irresistible.

The count faded amid the unrelenting darkness and soon entered below the window glass in the form of mist. Having entered fully into the room surrounding almost every corner, the vampire soon regained his human form gradually.

Standing at the right edge of the bed, just in front of the blond asleep, Richard turned to watch him carefully, staring at him with a penetrating and sly look. The Count wanted admire every part of his face, his expression all seemed sweet and gentle, and to see his golden blond hair he felt almost intoxicated. Martin drove him crazy. And his intentions were clear. This new victim attracted him too much, in a huge way.

Richard approached the blond and could hear the hiss of his breath that to his vampire ears sounded pleasantly rhythmic. Martin was certainly asleep in deep sleep. In an instant, Richard opened his mouth and then his greatly sharp, white fangs were showed. In rapture, the vampire approached his fangs into the neck of Martin desirable with every intention of puncturing and sucking every drop of his blood, which had been desperate to taste once. He could smell it, he had smelled Martin's precious blood from the first moment he had met him in person and Richard had been fascinated since then, but he had had to resist stealing it so far. From that first moment when Richard met Martin for the first time, the Count had known that the beautiful blond had the most delicious blood, the blood of a chaste man, without malice, elixir of divine purity. Certainly tonight the vampire Richard would have a great feast. Martin caused him get madness.

But the Count Richard pretended not to end his life, Richard wanted to be able to drink just a little blood and enjoy the gradual effects of drunkenness that surely would cause him to drink it and he wanted to be able to taste that precious blood again and again, night after night until deteriorate and consume his life completely. He would take possession of his life, a little more each night, to intensify his own.

He even got closer his sharp fangs to the blond's white collar and suddenly he stopped as his hands now were over Martin's body, he wanted to drink his blood while he was caressing his skin, he was going crazy. But suddenly the asleep blond gave a short almost inaudible whimper that made him to stop his outburst for a moment. He was distracted from what was about to commit, Richard was afraid for a moment that the blond could wake up, but it was an irrational fear that he himself could not explain. How it was possible that he feared that? If Martin were to wake up before he could complete his purpose, he could bite him against his will anyway. Martin returned to drop a brief moan and unavoidably the Count paused for a moment to observe him, the blond seemed to be dreaming, Martin looked beautiful in his eyes, sexy and perfect. But Martin did not seem to wake up, certainly seemed to be lost in his weariness so in an attractive and daring impulse, Richard began to explore with his hands under Martin's clothes, soon he began to lasciviously caress the bare skin of his torso. Richard ventured his bold hands under Martin's pajamas, touching every inch of his skin, and then he began to stroke his crotch. Richard felt lost in such pleasant feeling to touch the warmth of the body of a living being, he instead was always cold, he was an undead.

Despite his great enjoyment, the Count decided to cease those obscene caresses and continue his way of consuming the precious blood of the blond. He returned to put his sharp fangs on his neck, he was just a few millimeters to start to make his real purpose but suddenly the blond seemed to pronounce something very quietly prompting the Count was distracted again, placing his attention on the lips of the blond, his pink lips, full of life. The blond uttered the same thing twice. This time the Count could realize what he was saying. Martin was calling his name, adding the prefix of Count that distinguished him.

 _"Count...Richard..."_ the blond whispered very quietly for the third time. The Count felt greatly surprised to hear that, if the blond was dreaming with him, then that meant he had probably caused a great impact on him during their first meeting.

Martin's lips remained half open and now Richard could not look away from them, the lips seemed delicious, provocative. Martin's lips seemed to provoke him to kiss them, to test them. Finally Richard did not resist more, and approached his mouth to his to desperately begin to merge into a kiss unrequited. Soon the Count deepened the kiss stolen. He discovered that to taste the lips of the blond was extremely delicious, his lips were so soft, were warm lips, sweet, alive. Suddenly while their mouths were still united, the blond gave a whimper very softly. Martin continued to be kissed by the imposing Count who took advantage of his slumber and while Richard continued to enjoy the delicious kiss his fangs did not resist nibbling a little one lip of the blond causing a small wound that left well a couple of drops of his delicious blood , enough to intoxicate his senses. The Count had finally tasted that the blood of the blond was the sweetest he had ever tasted, even if he had just succeeded in testing those few drops. Richard continued to kiss the blond Martin for a while more, but now his mouth was also provided by the delicious metallic taste of his blood. It was wonderful. And do it while his hands lustfully returned to fiddling his entire body caused the sensation was even more immersive.

Richard wanted to further test his blood, biting his neck as he had planned, but when his lips parted a moment from his, he again stopped for a moment to observe the peaceful face of the blond, from the corner of his lips rolled a couple drops of blood that the Count rushed to lick with his cold tongue. A strange feeling further exacerbated his darkest desires. He suddenly thought that he was totally convinced of having the blond for him, he totally desired possess him, and become him his sexual slave. He wanted to make his of him, and taste his delicious blood forever.

Richard finally nailed his fangs on his neck and began to suck his delicious blood slowly, so subtle despite his enormous desperation to quench his thirst. He did not want take his life, he wanted to make him his, wanted to feed by his exquisite blood, get drunk with every drop, but he did not want to take his life.

Thus the Count found out that it caused him an absolute joy to hear the barely audible moans of his victim whose blood was being consumed. And when reckless hands of the excited Count delved under cotton trousers of the blond, he discovered what he had caused him. Richard felt the bulge that raised in his groin, his cock was stiff. His was even harder. But soon would be dawn.

………………………………………………

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the winter cold makes me be slower than normal in the end I took more time than I had proposed to update Dx and even if I already had the chapter ready since weeks ago :v  
> Anyway, I hope you liked it; ) I also hope that you liked the digital painting I made especially for this Chapter uwu and again I apologize if I made mistakes ^^  
> Your comments are always welcome :v /


	3. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Martin cannot help but feel terribly attracted by the deep and bluish gaze of the handsome Count Richard, who belongs to one of the most prestigious oldest families in Europe. Unexpectedly, the Count is actually an undead who will follow him even into his deepest dreams during the coming night.

****

**Chapter 3—Intruder**

Martin woke up when the sun began to peek over the horizon. As he opened his eyes he could not immediately remember what had happened the night before but once started to sit up in bed he felt a strange unusual weakness as if he had made a huge physical effort the night before. While he still was brightening, he tried to tie it all together and start remembering exactly what had been what had happened. Soon he noticed that he had done nothing out of the ordinary and that the last night he had only attended the theatre to enjoy a magnificent theatrical performance in the company of his boyfriend Benedict.

"Ah, it is true...the Count" muttered to himself still feeling a little immersed in his dizziness. Then he remembered that after the play he had gone with Benedict to the mansion of the strange and attractive Count Richard who had invited them to spend a pleasant evening at his residence. He also recalled that he had met the Count shortly before entering to see the theatrical play and recalled that since then he had been strangely shocked by his very elegant bearing.

The blond sat up and got up from his bed; the weakness persisted but did not seem worse. He noticed that perhaps this could be due to a sort of hangover but the fact was that he had not exceeded his alcohol consumption the night before and he had not even reached to get drunk.

"Maybe all this is because I've been working too hard in my writings in recent days, I think I have not rested enough," he thought to himself while was preparing the shower.

Soon he was immersed in the bath tub to enjoy a hot shower, maybe sit submerged in hot water for a few minutes could help him to revitalize. He could not help thinking he had really been taking pains so much in his new short stories and also despite his hard work, he had done painstaking much in advance the progress of what would be his new novel long.

"The Count...said he liked so much my works" mumbled the blond while he was enjoying being in the tub. He blushed as he remembered how the attractive Count had exclaimed him great admiration for his works and his great desire to have the opportunity to publish some of his writings in his prestigious magazine.

_"I have a great interest in reading your next work, Mr. Freeman"_

The words of the elegant Count never stopped resonate in his thoughts, nor his male and inviting voice to utter them. The Count had captivated him in many ways and Martin could not avoid it.

"He is...a very handsome man" constantly thought as he rubbed the soap along all his naked and wet skin "but...he's an aristocrat and I am a simple...well, I think I'd better stop thinking all these nonsense, but I cannot deny that...really I have a huge interest in his proposal. I would very proud if some of my work were published in his prestigious journal" he thought.

Although Martin continued to think that it might be too bold of him to be himself who were to visit the Count to revisit the issue of his literary career.

Martin finished showering and when he left the tub he began toweling off, but his body was, besides weakened, a little sore. He had no explanation for it.

He again felt a little breakdown for which he walked a little wobbly to the sink where there was also an oval mirror with baroque frame. While he was facing his own reflection on the mirror he realized that in addition to his unusual discomfort his face was strangely pale, he feared that it could be some disease but certainly it could not be more than a simple flu, it might have been exposed to cold at late night had affected him greatly, anyway he had always been a pretty sick man.

But at a time his attention could not help noticing that his neck it was whiter than usual, and he noticed that on one side protruded a couple of tiny injuries that left some red marks. Those tiny injuries were a pair of parallel marks and apparently sharp not very far apart from one another, they were the marks of a pair of sharp fangs of a beast that had sucked some of his blood. But Martin did not consider that it could be something like that at all, he supposed on the contrary, that those marks were to be only an external reaction of the malaise that was ebbing him that morning.

"Oh, God, I hope this is not any infectious disease," he said still looking at his own reflection. Although he thought he should not worry too much because those injuries were tiny and they did not really hurt.

But anyway they were visible and he did not want anyone to see. So he decided better hide those wounds with a sumptuous tie which also made him look very trend of the times. As soon as he finished dressing and was ready, he proposed to resume his wording in his modern typewriter. Martin had to finish writing a new story that had been commissioned for a new publication in a popular, although cheap, local newspaper. But although he was all the rest of the morning trying to write, the ideas seemed to not flow from his mind even after noon. Perhaps his lack of concentration should be the result of his impending weakening. Every time he looked at himself in the mirror he could see that his face showed no improvement whatsoever, but outside of this weakening did not present any other discomfort. In addition, although from very early in the morning he had drunk several cups of coffee, of select good grain, which Benedict had bought for him a few days ago, Martin could not feel optimally awake.

Although he had been tried to write on his typewriter for much time when had passed midday, Martin realized with some disappointment that he had not managed to write more than just one page of his new writing. Perhaps what he really needed was to retake some inspiration. He decided to get up from his seat and check among the books of the shelf to reread some of the fascinating stories he had always had loved, maybe re-read some of his favorite literature could make him regain the momentum to shape his own ideas that were always clear, although it had been very dull from the morning.

From the first shelf Martin chose to take a thick book of stories of sinister topics, his favorite since he had learned to read when he was an infant. But almost immediately he took the book in his hands his eye fell on a thick folder where he kept much of the drafts he had written to develop his long new novel.

He was tempted to take those drafts and take a look, he knew better than to resist it but now he did not have much time to be distracted by other things, because the new writing that one local newspaper had requested him should be delivered at the end of that week, and he had not yet written more than this terse pastern throughout the morning. The vampire novel had to wait for another time, Martin should focus now only on his new story that although it would also be of supernatural themes, should be written under a different context.

"Well, anyway I like to review my notes for a moment, it will be just a moment, I will not distract too much into this as well...I think have just now emerged some new ideas" whispered the blond with a slight smile.

He took the folder thick in his hands, he realized it looked a bit heavier than it had been the last time he had checked and when he opened it he realized that indeed it seemed to have increased the number of sheets with notes, although truthfully he could not remember having written so many new notes.

"Maybe really I've been spending more time on this than I had thought," he speculated.

He put the folder on his desk and began to re-read several of his own notes, which he had written many of the ideas and his research he had done for some years about the eccentric superstitious folklore that had been believed throughout the world since time immemorial to contemporary times. His look paid particular attention to the descriptions he had written about the vampiric beings who he had investigated, had long descriptions ranging from the legends of the ancient undead from the east to those who had described inhabit throughout Europe, especially since they had assigned that term 'vampire' in the now distant year 1741.

All descriptions had their own fascination, all descriptions were monstrous, disturbing and certainly they entirety had been sinister, what had accomplished instill the fear of the population which had spread such stories. And although at the same time all the legends were different all shared several common elements such as the fact that these creatures are delighted drinking the blood of his unfortunate victims to take their lives to prolong their own.

But Martin did not really want the protagonist of his new vampire novel were another monstrous entity like those. His vampire must be endowed with some more physically human characteristics, something that really did go unnoticed among the people, but inside it should not lose its true essence of infernal monster.

Martin was an expert graduate of letters from college, he had read all the stories that had spread in the modern world in the industrial boom, he had read the fascinating stories that had emerged from the imagination of many of his contemporaries as the prestigious Sheridan Le Fanu and the still fairly misunderstood Edgar Allan Poe, and he had also read some other writings that already possessed greater antiquity but had vastly enriched the literary world. But even before reading such famous figures, the poem of _Lenore_ , of 1773, written by the German author Gottfried August Bürger, was in fact one of the first poems he had read at an early age, a work that certainly had inspired much to the growing of the vampiric literature. All this prodigious literature had prompted further his fascination with death. Moreover since those authors had taken inspiration from important personages of the aristocracy, who had been outstanding not only for their noble titles but by their sanguinary cruelties, vampirism had managed to associate now not only with strangers villagers among common people, or among those servants of Satan who committed suicide and were therefore destined to become undead, but for a couple of centuries ago had discovered that the richest and most powerful people could be even more ruthless.

The lofty writings by his contemporaries and his predecessors had enriched this new vampiric concept for literature, but Martin was eager to shape his own story in a much more fluid and composed manner. That was the reason why he had been working so hard on the development of this new novel long for some years but in reality the idea had devised in his mind since his early teens.

The idea of an aristocrat vampire was what Martin had set out to capture in his new vampiric novel, an aristocrat vampire that could fool anyone with its refined manners and elegant appearance but stalking its victims showing them a true facet becoming a horrible monster emerging from the deepest nightmares.

Nevertheless, the idea of a vampire aristocrat was no longer new. In addition so far many of the vampiric writings had been made in respect of beautiful women overflowing in a sensual supernatural beauty. But Martin did not want to take the same idea, he wanted to innovate that and make it different and original, he wanted his protagonist were not only a noble finely educated, but also a male being.

"Perhaps...the idea of taking some inspiration from the Count Richard could not sound so foolhardy" he thought to himself but feeling a bit bashful to do so. But the Count was eccentric and very handsome, with an elegant bearing that Martin had not seen before in another man. The truth was that the night before Martin had begun to consider the idea. And although he had been a guest in his elegant great house only one night, all the strangely gothic and ancient luxury around him could serve as a small source of inspiration for his work. He thought he should just take it cautiously and not doing too evident that he would write his new protagonist inspired a bit on the handsome Count.

So Martin began to write this new source of inspiration in his drafts, it would be a new idea for his new novel. He wrote in detail in his manuscript everything he had seen in the Count and what he had found highly attractive, like his elegant bearing and his profiled face and also his clothes made of fine workmanship which seemed however a little old fashion, and he also described the piercing pale blue of the eyes of the Count and his hair, dark like night. Although Martin had tried not to be distracted too much writing these new inspiring ideas on the paper, when he noticed what he had written, he realized that he had really wrote a lot. He blushed when he read what he had written, he had perfectly embodied everything that the manly, handsome Count had captivated him and then his longing to see him again struck him in the chest with greater desire.

But thought it could not happen too soon even if he wanted to insist.

When Martin realized the sun had set and thus the night had fallen. His weakness continued disturbing him and lack of inspiration had not allowed him to write more than a page for his new writing, although it was still very early to go to bed, he was feeling increasingly heavy eyes that were about to force him to make him sleep, but soon he concluded that all of that could also be because throughout the day he had not eaten any food, because he was not hungry at all.

"Surely really I'm about to get a flu," said the blond to himself, still sitting at his desk with all his notes and drafts scattered on it "oh, and I could not even write so much, is supposed I should have ready this new writing, it should be released in two days and I had set out to write at least nine pages as my editor had suggested me" Martin whispered a little crestfallen.

But contrary to his little motivation to write his new delivery, the ideas for his long vampiric novel seemed to come in spurts inside his mind, because now he could not stop imagining his protagonist equipped with all the poise and exquisite gallantry inspired by The Count Richard. Martin really wanted to see him again, even wanted to hear again his seductive and masculine voice.

His lips outlined a big smile to remember the Count, remembered with emotion from that first moment he had seen the face of Count Richard when he was in the hallway of the agglomerate theatre the night before and he smiled more when he remembered with emotion how the Count had helped him down from the luxurious carriage offering his hand. The smile of the Count also remained in his memory and Martin could not dispel that from his mind.

"Wow, never before met such gallant gentleman" thought the blond again and again. But despite his excitement, his yawns grew increasingly. The pendulum clock placed against the wall indicated that soon it would be 8 pm and by that time he had lit candles for lighting. But despite the time, the blond simply was not hungry and that certainly was beginning to worry him. Outside it had stopped the daily noise of people and only sometimes could hear the noise of the tires of passing carriages and the galloping of steeds that pulled them. It was then that Martin wondered if it was possible that Benedict came in one of those carriages to make some brief overnight visit. Martin could not help feeling a little guilty because he noticed that throughout the day he had not thought of his boyfriend until that time, but he tried to justify himself that this was because surely after all his concentration it had been nil since he had awakened in the morning. In fact, Martin had not left his house all that day.

And as if it had been some kind of premonition, shortly after hearing a carriage stop near his home, someone knocked on the door. Martin rushed to open, much as he could due to his weakness barely allowed him to rise from his place. Shortly before arriving to turn the knob, the door was again knocked with some insistence and when Martin finally opened, Benedict appeared before him smiling affable and excited to see him.

"Martin!" Benedict greeted expressive.

"Hi Ben!" the blond said in response. Unexpectedly to his surprise, Benedict took his face in his hands and kissed him effusively. But Martin opposed some resistance because that was not something they were allowed to do just at the threshold because anyone could see them and accuse them of sodomy, which for those times was severely punished, not only for the crowd but also for the law.

Benedict could feel the rejection of his blond boyfriend, but that did not stop him to continue kissing him. Martin was upset, but despite wanting to reject he could not deny that he had wanted to have this kiss with him at that time. But for everything should be a time and a place and that should always be strictly inside the flat when the door were closed.

"Ben, stop!" he exclaimed the blond, while still felt the daring hands of his boyfriend around his waist.

"Oh sorry, Martin, I just could not help myself. It's just that I've been missing you all day...and wished I could kiss you since yesterday" he confessed Benedict with whispery voice. Martin blushed a little, although had not been thinking of Benedict as it should be, but feeling now surrounded by his arms made him feel too well.

"I understand Ben, but you know we cannot do this here," insisted the blond now trying to wriggle out of his arms, he thought he had been too long that way with Benedict exposed to any of his neighbors could see them, it could feel almost like a maddening eternity but in reality it had only been a couple of minutes.

"Okay Martin, very sorry, but come in please" Benedict suggested trying to exalt his gallantry. And although Martin tried to show severity in his face with the intent to be clear that such boldness on his part had bothered him indeed, he yielded to his suggestion and made him pass.

They closed the door and being inside they could rejoin their lips in a passionate kiss. Although, strangely Martin could not enjoy this kiss just as he had done in past days since they had begun their relationship because he was inevitably bugged, but this should also be only the result of his weakness. Martin suddenly remembered that the night before he had even proposed having his first night of sex with Benedict and now everything seemed to be just a simple irony because now he only wanted to go to sleep. But he knew he should be more optimistic, probably in the morning he could regain all his strength and continue to demonstrate his love for Benedict, as he deserved.

"Martin, is everything okay?" Benedict inquired when they finally stopped the kiss. He could feel that Martin was more elusive than usually, even more than he had been the night before after they left the carriage of the Count which had brought them to their respective homes, and that attitude of the blond was unusual. And besides that, Martin seemed to ignore the look all the time. Suddenly Martin in fact felt empty internally, as if his soul was not connected to his body at that time, but also one of the reasons why he dodged the look with this intention it was because he knew his face was showing a worrying pale face. But fortunately at that time of night the dim lights of candles could be a point in his favor and thus his pallor could go unnoticed for Benedict.

"No, it's just...I'm pretty tired," said the blond quietly.

But Benedict could not help worrying and despite the dim light he could notice that the face of his blond boyfriend did not seem to be endowed with all the vividness.

Benedict approached the back of his hand to gently caress Martin's face, he had learned to read very well his expressions and he knew something was not quite right.

"You have no high temperature, but I worry. Perhaps the fact of having taken you to the theatre last night and then accepting the invitation of the Count could dent your fatigue. You've been working a lot on your writing and I think maybe I should not have insisted to take you. It would have been much better let you rest yesterday," he said Benedict worried, Martin tried to lift his face to him to face him.

Martin looked into his eyes for a moment before wriggle out of his arms again. Suddenly he did not want to feel his closeness that way, but the other part of his psyche kept insisting it was wrong to have that elusive attitude towards his boyfriend. But he really wanted to be alone, he only wanted to sleep and wake up the next day to resume his vampire novel.

Benedict felt even more surprised by his rejection.

"Oh, do not worry about that Ben" Martin said "the play yesterday was magnificent and the invitation of the Count was something that rarely can get someone" he continued "In addition, it was really rewarding to meet such an elegant gentleman who also turned be a reader of my stories."

"A very avid reader, indeed, so I'm glad you had met him and that you can now have the great possibility to publish some of your stories in one of his prestigious magazines" Benedict said in a quiet voice as his fingers fingered a little the shoulders of the blond, who he had given a little back.

"Oh and...why did not you told me about him before? He is your direct boss and you never even mentioned him, and last night when I asked, you not let me very clear your explanation," said the blond a little brusque.

Benedict felt a little cornered by his unexpected form of questioning.

"Err well...as you said yourself, the Count is a gentleman a little strange, and as I said he is a very reserved man," Benedict said.

"Yes, quite strange..." he muttered the blond irresolute.

"Yes, to be honest... Richard is...well even if he's a good friend of mine...he has always seemed a man a bit mysterious" Benedict said, without being entirely clear. Really he did not know how to explain to his boyfriend that Richard more than mysterious, he seemed sinister often, because he had rare habits like the fact that he avoided as much as possible exposure to the sun and always preferred to meet with employees at night. But all this could be perhaps only part of his imagination and therefore Benedict did not wish to create doubts in Martin of something that he was not sure, they were only inferences after all.

"Anyway, really I'm quite interested in his mysticism, and that mystery that seems to always be around him. I realize that he is a man full of secrets...." the blond said more clearly, if it had not been because candles were not lighting too, Benedict might have noticed that in the eyes of Martin seemed to ignite a flame of enthusiasm to pronounce that.

However, the way the blond had spoken was enough for Benedict again wonder why suddenly he was too interested.

"Well...and you've only seen him once," Benedict said a little more serious.

Martin turned finally to him and decided to speak with more determination; he had decided to reveal him some of his new purpose.

"Yes but you know, Ben? All this afternoon I've been thinking about a new idea that I got," said the blond, smirking.

"What is it about?" Benedict asked, smiling, if a little curious to know.

"So I think I just found the final model for the protagonist of my new vampire novel," said Martin exclamatory and then he approached Benedict to caress his chest a little, fiddling with some incitement.

Benedict smiled knowingly, he was a little anxious to know what the blond was thinking, but his provocative attitude was exciting him too so Benedict couldn't resist to kiss him again. Before Martin revealed him his idea, they kissed with some passion. After disengaging their lips, both smiled at each other with complicity.

"Come on, and tell me what it is about," he insisted Benedict smiling.

"I thought the idea of a male vampire, an aristocrat" explained the blond. And from there an extensive talk was developed on the subject.

…………………………

The night continued its course and both Benedict and Martin lost track of time talking about the new ideas that the blond had devised in his mind. When they noticed the time on the pendulum clock, it was too late, it was already midnight and therefore Benedict could not go home. Martin invited him to stay overnight at his flat and soon they went to sleep, but they did not sleep together and they did not even in the same room. Benedict had to sleep in the living room on the longest sofa, just opposite the portrait of the dead cousin of Martin, who for the rest of the night would have looked at him with his staring and lifeless gaze if it had not been because the oil of the lamp had ended, and so it couldn't illuminate the night.

Meanwhile almost immediately Martin had fallen rendered by the great weariness that had been afflicting him all day, but previously before sleeping again he thought that now everything seemed empty in their relationship and he could not explain why, because the night before he had considered fervently the idea of surrendering to Benedict in sexual union and now that Benedict was sleeping under his roof he did not feel even the slightest emotion for it.

Martin almost immediately fell into deep sleep and he knew no more. Without even imagine, outside his home the same inhuman shadow that had lurked him last night watched him from the balcony of his window. The Count Richard had returned to visit him to sate with his precious blood again, but he felt great frustration when he realized that Martin tonight was not alone. The vampire could realize the presence of Benedict, that although he was in another room he was very close to him, and although it was not quite a drawback, Richard felt that for that night he should abandon his intentions, because the tie that bound Benedict to the blond caused him a terrible disgust that would not allow him to enjoy the delicious feast.

The Count decided to leave the area to find another unfortunate victim that night, anyway he should quench his thirst, but he did not want to leave without leaving a kind of subliminal message in the subconscious of the virgin blond who now lay peacefully asleep on his bed.

Thus it was that Martin began to dream strange scenarios, which however should look familiar. He began to realize, in the midst of his dreams accused, that suddenly he was in an open, extensive and desolate countryside where it had overgrown grass and thick brush. He immediately asked where he could be, his dreams gradually turned more lucid again, and likewise began to become increasingly bizarre as soon as he walked through the grass, Martin could see that between the herbs protruded deteriorated figures and rocky aspect. Martin did not know for what reason he was being driven to walk and deeper and deeper into the unknown place, but as he walked could begin to notice that these battered figures were actually graves, cold graves neglected and covered with thick mold, and around it could see many more tombs, each and every abandoned, broken and even all with a rather antique look. Besides all the graves seemed very distant from one another, the field was really huge and no building was seen in the background. Martin began to feel desperate, it looked like he was really alone in the middle of all this strange and deteriorated churchyard, amid his dreams, amid the lucid nightmare. Suddenly his desperation began to cause him some smothering and then he wanted to scream but he could not, because his mouth could not utter a sound. With this desperation only increased greatly, and then he tried to run. But the herbs were too thick and apparently when he more tried to evade it, the herbs became increasingly substantial.

And the damn nightmare was being too vivid, Martin could even feel like all the thorns from the ivy pricked his legs and skewers ruined increasingly his fine trousers, which he wore in the dream. Martin could not understand what was going on, but he wanted to get out of it fast so did not mind hurting more with all those thorns, and then he decided to run and save his life from this emptiness in the creepy cemetery. But the more he ran, the more he realized that the road was beginning to become steep, and looking back suddenly he realized that now there seemed he had climbed to near the top of a high hill. Feeling now prey of vertigo, he turned back to look forward and what suddenly appeared before his eyes was roundly creepy. Suddenly he was no longer alone, suddenly now right in front of him it was a great grave, whose tombstone was damaged, broken, desecrated and on the stone of the grave it was sitting a man who turned his back, a man dressed elegantly in black as if the recent loss of a loved one mourns him.

"Sir...excuse me but…" muttered the hesitant and fearful blond, heading towards the strange man. Suddenly the words could come out again from his voice. But the gentleman did not flinch at his call. But Martin continued walking towards him, it seemed like weeds beneath his feet had suddenly disappeared, and he continued walking forward. Being closer to the man, Martin realized that the gentleman had a long silky hair under his top hat, dark hair, slightly wavy fell below his shoulders, and Martin has stated also that the man's back was broad and seemed strong, and somehow he was very familiar. He went closer to the grave, he must have realized that the man was mumbling something, and being closer to his face the smell of damp earth that accompanied the slight odor of putrefaction rose; it was the dismal smell of the cemetery where he was just standing.

"Sir...excuse me..." whispered the blond, again heading toward the man. The man continued to ignore him and continued muttering what to the ears of Martin it seemed to be a strange language. And despite all this it disturbed him greatly, Martin had decided to get courage to continue to the end, but he could not answer himself why all this greatly aroused his curiosity. Soon he was close enough to be able to read the letters that were written on the now broken tombstone and which also showed that much of the ground had been removed. Martin felt the terror that was evident when, to his great surprise, the golden letters were read on the gravestone put _"memento mori, an ephemeral life. Here lies Charles Raymond Freeman, was born on February 8, 1833. He died on July 27, 1850 "._

Martin drowned his scream with fright, he felt the air suddenly it was over, felt his blood run cold and almost felt his heart stop when his surprise was even bigger, because when he looked under the tomb, right in the open gap on the wet ground, it was an open coffin, right beside the feet of the mysterious gentleman dressed in black, and inside the open coffin Martin saw with horror that the body exhumed, still covered in his shroud, was no doubt his dead cousin. Charles had been reduced to a skeleton gaunt, mummied, and simply unrecognizable covered by nasty worms, but Martin could never forget the brown hair of his, who still looked on his mummified skull, nor could never forget that very elegant clothes with which it he had been buried, the same elegant clothes that Charles wore in the picture that was in his living room, the daguerreotype that still was playing to cheat death.

Still shocked, unable to believe what his eyes were witnessing, suddenly the mysterious man who sat on the broken tomb turned at last towards him, finally looking up at his face to face him and then the man spoke some words mumbling.

"Human life is so fragile, it can end in an instant without wait," mused that gloomy man. And though his words were cold somehow they sounded in an abetted sensuality.

Terrified Martin realized that this strange man, elegantly dressed in mourning, was the same man he had seen in the cemetery of Leeds the last time he had gone to visit the grave of his cousin, but right now inside his nightmare he could not differentiate between that and this churchyard in which now he was because he could not even believe he was immersed in his own nightmares and that this was not entirely true. But surely it was the same man who had disappeared without a trace that occasion, the same man wearing a top hat and a pair of sunglasses in carmine hue. But at one point, the man took off his top hat and even behind those dark glasses, small and round, Martin realized that the same man was The Count Richard.

…………………………

Agitation of the blond choked him while he was still prey to his nightmares, his body on his bed almost seemed convulsed as a result of the internal struggle with his subconscious. Still asleep, he was still dominated by his bad dreams, still unconscious helplessly and his forehead was beaded with sweat. But in his lucid dreams he was still struggling to find an early exit from this aberration, he had the firm conviction that at any time he would wake up and it was then he was slowly regaining consciousness. He awoke suddenly, greatly exalted, but relieved to have finally found the exit of those dreams so horrible. His breathing was still labored but that did not stop him scream a cry of despair, which could be heard by Benedict who had been sleeping in the living room. But shortly before Benedict was hurrying to his aid, Martin had the odd feeling that shortly before awakening had felt a strange chill stroke between his legs. He noticed that he had felt as a kind of obscene caress. But surely that would also have been just part of his imagination like his nightmares. Despite the terrible anguish, Martin decided he should try to calm down and convince himself that it was all just a bad dream, the worst he'd had in his life, but the pillow wet with his own sweat reminded him that nevertheless, the dream had been too vivid. And in his mind he could not clear the image of The Count Richard smiling wryly at him, sitting on that grave, but above all he could not remove from his mind the horrible image of the corpse of his beloved dead cousin, exhumed twenty five years after he have died. Everything seemed to be a cruel mockery of his own imagination.

"What's going on?! Are you all right, Martin?!" Benedict asked concerned, from behind the bedroom door of his blond boyfriend. Martin had closed the door from inside.

"No, nothing is fine..." sputtered still disturbed blond. Benedict felt even more concerned to hear his answer. Martin struggled to get out of bed and hurried to open the door and when he did and stood before Benedict, he pounced on him to hug him tightly, he needed to feel protected by anyone and above all he needed to convince himself that he was not alone, as he had been in the midst of his nightmare.

Inevitably, Martin sobbed a little in the arms of his boyfriend who was trying to comfort him sympathetically before even asking the slightest explanation. They lit the oil lamp that was in the corridor and they sat in the middle of the living room. When Martin finally managed to calm down a bit he began to tell about his frightening dream and could not avoid returning to sob when he spoke about the horrible image he had seen of his dead cousin in that rusty coffin. Benedict turned to comfort him, embraced him again and tried to convince him that everything was fine and that it had not been more than a horrible nightmare that probably will not be repeated again. Martin was moved by his words of support and understanding, he knew he could trust him, but had failed to talk about the face of the man of his dreams, the very face of The Count Richard, and that made him feel certainly guilty. When Martin managed to calm down more, the couple joined their lips in a kiss in the middle of the living room, opposite the old daguerreotype showing the deceased Charles, the image of his cousin when then just had died, the photo that tried to cheat death with a live appearance.

But the portrait was not the only ancient relic that night was witness of their token of love, without knowing just behind the window a silhouette of the undead watched them warily, the Count Richard showed himself translucent behind that glass, mixed with the fog that was condensed in the air, watching the kiss of those two, jealous of a love he could not have. Martin had become a kind of compulsive desire for him that gradually became a fervent obsession, but although he managed to meddle in his nightmares and even try his exquisite blood, Martin just could not be of him because the feeling that bound him to Benedict it seemed to be sincere and that was something he could not break. And he hated it too much.

But the Count was willing to persuade him to make him fall into his hands, even if because of his reverie by watching his sleep that night had avoided him to go in search of another victim, another source of his life, it was blood. He could go hungry for a while, anyway Richard had an eternity to be fed, but watch the dream of the virgin blond, though he was in the company of his stupid boyfriend, it was a privilege that could no longer even wanted to deny himself.

"Everything will be all right, Martin," said Benedict, still comforting him. And they kissed again.

…………………………

The next morning, Benedict and Martin tasted breakfast together. Although Benedict had intended to leave very early, so as not to intrude too much to Martin with his presence, at the end he thought that perhaps it was best to be with him a little longer because the night before, having been a victim of this horrible nightmare, Martin really seemed very affected.

"Thank you very much, Martin. It looks delicious, but I insist that you should not have to bother" Benedict thanked trying to sound enthusiastic, especially to make him feel better. But Martin just gave a brief smile and also sat at the table for breakfast.

"No, I thank you very much to you for supporting me so much, Ben. If it had not been for your company I would not know what to do" the blond muttered sheepishly.

Benedict smiled affable, though in truth he did not know what else to say, because despite his efforts to cheer his blond boyfriend, Martin just kept keeping too elusive and downcast attitude, but Benedict knew that was understandable. In addition, Benedict could see that all the time, Martin seemed to try to avoid the gaze each time he was near the portrait of his deceased cousin. Benedict could deduce the reason, Martin had told him in detail the horrible nightmare and how he had seen the corpse of his cousin out of his own grave.

"Well, Martin, excuse me if I cannot stay more time but...you know, I must go to work. Even today I have a lot to do with publishers and also I must finish writing the chronicle of the play" Benedict said now a little rushed to get out, he had realized that the pendulum clock on the wall marked the time to go.

Martin smiled, though without much effort, and nodded.

"Okay, no problem, I also have a lot to do," murmured the blond, although in a quiet voice that Benedict could barely reach to listen. Surely that morning Martin did not seem to intend to be affective, but either way, Benedict could continue demonstrating him his total affection so before leaving so he approached him for give him a subtle kiss on the forehead.

Shortly after Benedict left the flat, Martin decided that he should return to work, every time he was wasting more time and although the nightmare of the previous night was disturbing his mind, that should not prevent his job. Although in his thoughts he could not help thinking again and again that perhaps all this nightmare could have been derived maybe because he had decided to use somehow the perky image of The Count Richard for his own creation, but for that very reason, perhaps he should use the nightmare in his favor and turn it in his writings.

Suddenly remembering the nightmare superlatively inspired his imagination. The blond had emboldened the momentum to type everything in his typewriter, the momentum which had lacked so much the day before. Thus, Martin began to write every detail of his nightmare transcribed on his machine. He did not stop typing the text until he had finished to the last detail. And in the process he had even written so quickly that he had done some damage in some fingers. But none of that stopped him and continued to write with great dedication.

When he finished writing that morning he realized that despite his still present disturbance his body felt optimal as always, all his weakness seemed to have disappeared and that led him to write the new story that he must to give soon to the magazine smoothly. In addition to that, also he was totally inspired by his recent nightmare, Martin was able to finish the new story in just one day, even with a couple of pages more than had been proposed, and it was completely ready until the sun went down. Also that day had managed to return to feed properly, but his mind was scheming the horrible memory he had seen in that desolate imaginative cemetery with the body of his dead cousin nauseatingly exposed to the foot of strange elegant man.

Martin could peacefully sleep that night, or so he thought then, for his fortune he was not again fall prey to nightmares that the same Count had infringed him the last night but the next morning again became notorious a pair of puncture wounds on his neck which he struggled to hide again with his tie. The next day, the blond could deliver his story smoothly and to consideration of its editors, the story seemed to promise a new success in the publication, which greatly lifted the blond. He was pleased to have achieved what for days, in the midst of his weakness, he had thought impossible.

But despite the good reception, for the moment the magazine editors had no more work for him. Although it frustrated him a little, Martin thought that perhaps after all, this could be a good opportunity to continue to develop his new vampire novel, and perhaps could also use the time to spend more time with his boyfriend Benedict, for who he still was grateful.

"I could go to do a little visit to his work... well, maybe so I can also take advantage to ask the Count for a chance to publish some of my works in his magazine" he thought to himself constantly during those days.

It had been a few weeks since Martin had met the mysterious Count, and puncture wounds on his neck kept appearing every morning, to his shame. But he never spoke of it, nor let anyone see them, even Benedict every time he tried to kiss his neck, as Martin always avoided as much as possible to do so.

Certainly Martin had returned to having strange dreams every night, almost was beginning to get used to all of them, although none had been bad enough to even consider a slight nightmare, but all shared in common the fact that they were too lucid and incoherent, but they were only dreams and there could be no further explanation.

Outside of that, his life had continued with the same monotony, Martin continued to spend days writing inside his home, hermit, without having more company than his boyfriend who visited him almost every day. And although each visit both showed signs of their affection partner, Martin's mind had not resurfaced the idea, much less the desire to get rid of his stubborn virginity, he had not again proposed to ask Benedict start to also share the bed and make their relationship were actively sexual. Perhaps he was hoping it was Benedict who first encouraged proposing, though in truth it was true that in some inexplicable way he simply no longer felt eager to do so. Now his emotion focused more and more on writing his new novel, and as typing each line, each paragraph, each page ideas seemed to flow with greater emphasis. Soon Martin realized that during those days had managed to write for his vampiric work much more than he had managed to write in years, but still knew that lacked many elements, but should not worry too much about it because it had been only a brief introduction.

One day a couple of hours after noon the blond finally decided to make a visit to the office where Benedict worked. He almost could not hide the enthusiasm it caused him so since he had taken a shower that morning had dressed very elegant and carefully.

He took his writings, which purported to show to the editors of this publication and especially if running hopefully, he would show them to The Count.

Martin was quick to take the carriage that would take him in less than an hour to the place. It was a recently built which was located in one of the busiest parts of the city building. Definitely it was a place of great prestige.

The blond went to reception where he showed his identification. Soon he could walk up to the floor where Benedict was, who had gotten him an appointment that afternoon so he could be received in the first instance by a major publisher. As Martin came to the floor above, he found his boyfriend and greeted him, although he did as if they were only comrades because they had to continue saving the appearances. But enthusiasm was something that they had no prohibited to show and anyway they could not help it.

"Hey look Martin, how good you arrived, just in time!" Benedict said.

"Yes, I could not be late for this important event," said the blond.

"And do I have great news, Martin. You see, the Count usually is not in the office at this time and much less because in recent weeks he had to attend to some personal matters, things of his family outside the country. But just today he is in his office, not a long time ago he just arrived," Benedict said, trying to show some seriousness but inside he was dying to show his love, and kiss him.

To hear him say that, the enthusiasm of Martin increased further, but he should remain discreet in his excitement.

"Oh, that...sounds great, Ben" said the blond seriously but internally cheerful.

But before he could continue, suddenly Martin caught sight of the elegant Count Richard right behind Benedict, which at that time was out of what appeared to be his own personal office.

While Benedict was about to respond he could read the shocked expression on the face of Martin who had just seen the attractive Count out of the office. Although more than astonishment, what was demonstrating the blond's face was a rapture that he almost could not avoid.

"Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Freeman" politely greeted the Count suddenly coming towards him.

"Good afternoon, sir," mumbled the blond inevitably lost in the face of the Count.

Richard extended his hand to greet him, again he put his left hand to greet Martin, it looked like if he had not forgotten at all that the blond was left-handed. Martin felt embarrassed about it, thought it was a great consideration on his part and felt he did not deserve because the Count despite being the head of that publishing was also an aristocrat with an important lineage.

"Well, excuse me but I must leave. I do not want to intrude and also I have to finish my work" Benedict said, momentarily interrupting the shared looks that Martin and the Count Richard had begun to set one over the other.

"Yes, okay Ben, I'll see you in a while," said the Count in a calm voice, directing his gaze at him briefly before returning to look at Martin.

"I'll see you at the end, Ben" added Martin. Benedict then left the area and went to his own work area.

"What a pleasant surprise to have you back here Mr. Freeman!" He said the Count, smiling with a certain gallantry.

"Well, actually I have come to ask for some opportunity," said the blond though a bit hesitantly.

The Count admired his shy expression.

"You know that exalts me a lot, you full me of emotion, I'm anxious to know what is the new story that your prodigious hands have recently written" Richard said in a calm voice, which to ears of Martin sounded extremely provocative.

"Well, that is precisely why I requested this meeting, I do not know if I've been very timely, but I..." mumbled the blond hesitantly.

The Count realized that the blond carried a thick folder under his arm and sensed that surely these should be his new writings and that made him outlined a big smile.

"Well Mr. Freeman I think you have arrived in the timelier because just one day ago I returned to London. I traveled to continental Europe after that night six weeks ago, that's why I could not contact you before, I beg your pardon" the Count politely excused himself.

"Oh no problem, no way" the blond said blushing a little, not really knowing exactly what to say or how was supposed to act before an aristocrat.

"Anyway Mr. Freeman, I think we should discuss this better in my office. I do not want to be impolite and having you here in the hall. Come with me please," suggested the Count and made an indication with a hand to allow him enter, and Martin obeyed his petition.

Both men entered the office, and the Count made sure to close the door. Martin was surprised to see the elegance of that office, which was also equipped with innovative devices that few people possessed. He could see a machine more modern and functional than his writing machine, and could realize also that on one of the furniture there was a phonograph, only few times Martin had seen one of these devices since its very recent invention. And on the main wall, behind the desk, it was hung a daguerreotype with golden baroque frame, showing the image of the Count in elegant pose.

"Please take a seat Mr. Freeman and tell me about your new work, I'm wishful to know," said the Count, making a subtle caress on Martin's back.

Martin was self-conscious again due to the contact and for the sensuous tone of his words and then placed his folder on the desktop and even a little hesitant because of his shyness, began to take part of his typewritten notes and manuscripts in an effort to show and explain to the Count each part in detail.

"Well, you see truth I have some short stories finished, but I would like to show you a preview of what will be my first long novel, if I may," said the blond. The count was even more excited to hear him say that, not only because he really enjoyed reading his works but because the melodious voice of Martin reveled him too much, especially now that for the first time both could be completely alone.

"Please let me see them," said the Count and grinned at Martin. The Count took notes in his hands, and immediately was amazed to read the drafts of the blond who so admired, because not only his prose to the naked eye was sublime but Martin's handwriting was made in an impeccable calligraphy "your handwriting is very beautiful, Mr. Freeman," said Richard amazed and sincere, as he turned to smile at him. The blond was very flattered by his comment and he could almost feel the blush began to invade over his cheeks.

"Thank you very much Mr. Count" said the grateful blond, waiting for the good observation about his calligraphy, and then the Count began to read the content.

"I see that in truth you have been very well documented, Mr. Freeman" said the Count and continued to read the writings.

"Yes, I told you at that time that my purpose is to write a supernatural novel, not only a tinged thriller, but real terror. So I've been thoroughly searching many elements from several sources... though perhaps you can tell me that you are missing many elements still" he said the blond again hesitantly.

Richard turned to look up at him and returned to dedicate a broad smile.

"Not at all, and in fact I could not forget the words spoken by a man whom I admire so much, much less when at last I had the fortune to hear you loudly" said the Count. To hear him say that with his masculine seductive voice the exalted emotion of the blond grew even more.

"You're very flattering Mr. Count, now I just hope you like my ideas and suggest me if it's okay the way I started to develop the introduction," said the blond.

"Certainly yes" he pronounced Richard sensuous, and continued to read the writings. And he was surprised to realize that many of the bases on which Martin was being influenced, all that information collected, it was extremely familiar for him, because indeed Richard knew every one of the sources, because many of them he had lived in person in ancient times. But he wouldn't speak about it.

"So you, Mr. Freeman, you want to write something about Nosferatu, blood-sucking, undead" he said the Count smirking but intoning some seriousness.

Martin is more self-conscious but answered.

"Yes, indeed, vampires," he muttered Martin, a bit timorous.

"Well, if you will allow me, Mr. Freeman, I think I could help further enrich your already lofty written, as I said, well I have a great intention to contribute to your work, really I know much about the lives of the characters in which you have decided take inspiration, among other things. And help to my favorite writer ennoble me a lot," said the Count suggestive, watching at the blond with seduction.

Martin nodded, he was nervous but pleased by the intention of the Count and especially by the way he had spoken to him, and again was lost in his mesmerizing blue eyes, which for a moment again he thought he saw a fleeting and strange light. And still lost in his own rapture, in which the seductive eyes of Richard were fixed on his, Martin could feel for a moment the gloved hand of the Count perching on his to caress it with intent.

………………………

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I finally updated this story after a damn eternity :v
> 
> I apologize if I made mistakes ;w; I always try my best
> 
> In the next chapter finally will start the real sexual tension between Martin and Count >;)
> 
> Is appreciated all comments and kudos! owo


	4. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Count Richard offers to help Martin in the development and edition of his new novel, and with interest invites him to his mansion to consult his personal collection where he keeps old and important books that could prove to be extremely interesting for Martin in the development of his novel. Martin cannot help being greatly attracted to the handsome Count without knowing that he is actually a vampire. In turn the Count has already chosen him as his victim and begins to seduce him with temerity.

                                                                 

**Chapter 4 — Seduction**

Stunned even in the seductive gaze of the elegant Count, Martin could feel the softness of his gloved hand with fine velvet caressing his. He did not know why it was happening or what the intention of Count Richard to him was but strangely Martin was enjoying, even if only a few seconds had passed, seconds that seemed a pleasant eternity.

And suddenly, breaking the awkward silence of the office, Martin let out a short nervous giggle, looking away. And at that the Count smiled broadly for a moment.

"Ahh, well, I'm really excited to know that you have such an interest in my writing even to offer me help to enrich it," whispered the nervous blond, while hesitantly slipped his hand little by little to separate it from the Count's hand that had caressed him over the desk.

"And tell me Mr. Freeman, how did you decide to write a novel about these... supernatural beings?" inquired the Count with seductive intonation in his voice again and approached the blond again who still kept his eyes out.

Martin's nervousness increased steadily, and he felt the rhythm of his heartbeat increase every time the Count drew closer to him.

"Ah, well... they have always seemed very interesting to me, an archetype that... magnificently encompasses all the fears of humans and..." the blond could not concentrate on speaking because the Count did not look away. The Count all the time fixed on him a look full of provocation.

"Oh, and what makes you think it's just an archetype?" inquired the Count boldly, Martin could almost feel the breath of the dark-haired very close to his face.

"It is well known that they are nothing more than a mere cultural invention..." Martin mumbled shyly.

The Count returned a languid smile.

"But do not you think that if the vampire concept has enriched multiple stories in different cultures it could be more than that?" commented the Count, sassy.

"What does that mean?" Martin said with a nervous giggle. The Count drew even closer to him and dared to take Martin's hand in his again, caressing as he had done before.

"Well, I mean that more than an archetype or a concept conceived by different cultures, in which they share very similar traits such as the consumption of blood or being undead, they have become a true legend... Many people claim to have seen them over the centuries, from antiquity," explained the Count Richard.

At that moment Martin did not know if he was being seduced more by the sensual tone of his words or by his daring to take his hand and raise it to the nearness of his face and suddenly, before Martin could respond to it, began feel the Count's lips, which were cold but very soft, gently kissing the back of his hand.

"Ah, what are you doing, Mr. Count?" asked the blond hesitant because of the nervousness. But the Count did not stop at the question and continued to kiss the back of the blond's bare hand, even looking up at him as he did so.

But at last Count Richard stopped, and without letting go of Martin's hand, spoke with utter serenity.

"I am sorry, Mr. Freeman, but I could not help it, it is my weakness to kiss such wonderful hands, as an act of cavalry to express the admiration of your beauty, beautiful hands that have written wonderful stories," said the Count Richard seductively.

Martin was flushed, embarrassed by the recent act of the elegant Count, and above all because of what he had just said with flattery. And Martin simply could not assimilate it.

"Beauty? I do not know what you mean, but I..." he muttered the timorous blond, looking away with more desperation, everything became more and more uncomfortable and the Count Richard just kept looking at him with the same strange lasciviousness.

"Mr. Freeman, I'm sorry, I think I've only managed to make you very nervous with my audacity and that's not my intention at all. I beg your pardon," the Count Richard excused himself, yet his voice continued to sound extremely provocative. His intention actually was to incite the blond.

Martin felt much more self-conscious, even the Count's apologies made him feel very uneasy.

"Ah, there is no problem, but I must say that I really do not understand it, or maybe it is just that I am not accustomed to receiving such compliments and much less from someone as distinguished as you, Mr. Count," muttered the irresolute blond .

"Ah... I must say that, in spite of everything, I have been sincere, Mr. Freeman. You give me an unusual attraction that I simply cannot explain"

Martin was speechless before it, he really did not know what else to say. And the Count smiled again with kindness.

"You have a subtle and beautiful beauty, Mr. Freeman, something that perfectly adorns your good temper and the serenity of your voice. In addition you are really very nice, as well as talented," said the Count, sincere, reckless.

"You make me blush," said the blond in a low voice and dodging his gaze, and the count noticed at that moment that Martin's cheeks were redder than they had been and that inwardly excited him greatly, because it was an undoubted sign that the blond's blood, red and delicious, flowed fervently all over his body. The Count Richard was much more anxious to try it, again, to quench his terrible thirst and his desire. In an instant he could not help licking his lips a little, remembering how delicious it had been to taste it that night when he had burst into Martin's room in the light of the full moon. And at that moment, though extremely brief, while the handsome Count had licked his lips, Martin could see him sideways, and he thought that the Count's tongue seemed to be much redder than usual. Internally this made him feel an unfounded fear.

"Mr. Count... maybe I'd better go now... that is, you're probably very busy and I ..." the blond muttered, dodging his gaze again.

"Mr. Freeman, you do not have to run away so soon, you know, I would love to continue with the review of your magnificent writing, I could begin right now to show you my collection of old books of which I spoke," said the Count with a little more seriousness, but smiling affable for him.

"I would love to, Mr. Count," replied the shy blond, "but I imagine you do not have those books here in your office."

"Yes, in fact, in this place I could not keep such precious books perfectly safe, they are truly old, as I mentioned before, and for that reason I have them in my personal library in my house. Here in my office I only have my favorite books, like yours. I like to read them again," he explained with a reckless smile drawn on his lips. Martin blushed again.

"Ah, I am always flattered to know that you have such admiration for my works, even though I am not yet an expert writer or the most distinguished, I am not even half famous," said the blond in a timid voice.

"You are the best for me, I have said it and I am sincere," answered Richard seductively. "And regarding the old books I want to lend you for your inquiry, they are not here but we could go for them right now," he said the Count. Martin felt that this seemed too hasty and inopportune, because must be working hours for the important Count.

"Oh, no, do not worry about it, I'm not in any hurry about it right now, and I imagine you must be very busy here in the office," said the doubtful blond.

"There is no problem for me, so accept my proposal, please, let's go to my house and I'll ask the carriage to take us there, I hope you do not mind taking it in my personal carriage and not yours" said the serene Count.

"Ah, no, I do not have a carriage, I've arrived in a cab here as usual," Martin said succinctly.

"It is a pity that you have to do it, but if you agree to work with me and this thrives fruitfully, and I know it will be, I assure you that you will not have to continue depending on the use of taxis or rented vehicles, I will make sure to always provide you with the best carriage" commented Mr. Richard.

Martin was filled with great shame again, all the Count's attention to him always seemed too good and that was just the beginning.

"I really want it to be so," Martin mumbled uncertainly, admiring the Count's gallantry before his eyes, something he could not help but want. In the midst of his nervousness, Martin was increasingly convinced that the elegant bearing of the Count Richard had to be used as the model of the protagonist of his new work to come.

……………………..

Martin had accepted the suggestion of the handsome Count Richard without much trouble, and immediately he had been persuaded to accompany him to the exit of the building where a large carriage awaited them, different from the one that had taken them several nights after the performance of that play. To be the possessor of at least those two elegant carriages, the Count must surely possess a great fortune. Martin felt more and more eager to have a closer relationship with him, even if it was only of a labor nature. However, even if he did not admit it even to himself, something in his subconscious asked him, almost demanded, that the relationship that would now derive between them, was something much more than the literary society. The Count was too attractive to him, perhaps more than an interesting person, he really attracted him as a man.

"Please, Mr. Freeman," said the Count, gentlemanly, inviting him gallantly to approach the fine carriage made of fine wood. Martin obeyed, it seemed a dream to find himself in that situation, he would soon be taken back to the great mansion in the carriage pulled by two stallion steeds. And even though at that moment the Count had decided to wear dark glasses of crimson dye, Martin could feel his gaze on him, again.

"Thank you, Mr. Count," Martin said gratefully and got into the car. Almost immediately he noticed how the Count was climbing too, and sat down beside him until he closed the door. Again they were alone, only the two, this time both within a very small space compared to that office and that was certainly something exciting.

Inside, the seats were covered with fine velvet like the previous carriage, and Martin could not stop touching it nervously, while his attention was focused on the handsome profile of the handsome Count who at that moment was taking off his dark glasses, glasses which reminded him of something but he could not be sure of what.

The two of them were really alone, for the carriage did not even allow them to see how the driver and the footman were driving the horses. And then the carriage began its march, and the sound of the horses' gallop was heard through the cobbled streets.

"// _the dead travel fast_ ,//" Count Richard suddenly commented, breaking the awkward silence at the moment.

"You know the famous poem of the German Gottfried August ..." answered the blond, surprised.

" _Riding in the middle of the night on a stranger's horse at a frenetic pace along a funeral route through the dead_ ... do not you think it's a fine reference, Mr. Freeman?" asked the suggestive Count.

"It could also be a danger," the blond added in reply, with a brief, ironic smile. Almost immediately he regretted having answered with that, fearing that the Count would judge him wrong and he would feel himself alluded to, and thereby believe that he was being discourteous of his kindness.

"Do I look like a dangerous man to you, Mr. Freeman?" inquired the Count with irony, endowed with masculine coquetry. He was anxious to harass -even more- the shy blond.

"Ah, of course not! Of course I was not referring to you in any way," Martin replied, shifting the position of his legs nervously. And from there he seemed to do it continuously.

And at that moment, as he shamelessly turned his gaze away to the window, Martin could feel Count Richard's hand resting on his shoulder and slipping slowly behind the back of his head to rest on the other shoulder. Martin gave a very low sigh, almost inaudible, but the Count was perfectly aware of it.

"It is not that I have felt alluded to it at all, Mr. Freeman, it is only that I am concerned that you may believe that I am impolite or too reckless," said the Count with a seductive voice, Martin could hear his voice very close to his ear "and well, It occurred to me to mention this poetry in order to raise your exquisite imagination, even more. You know who Eleonore von Schwarzenberg was?" inquired the Count without leaving his seductive tone of voice.

Martin kept dodging his gaze, but decided that he should try to avoid his nervousness and look at the Count in the eyes at least briefly.

"I read something about her on occasion, but I'm not fully informed of her life, I must be sincere" Martin replied.

Richard smiled sideways, still admiring everything in Martin's face, his shy expression, his embarrassment and above all his red and tremulous lips that he longed to kiss, and that white collar that desperately wanted to bite. Everything about Martin enraptured him, enraged all his passions.

"Do you know that Gottfried August was inspired by the story that was told of the death of that princess, Mr. Freeman?" Richard asked in a sensual tone. Martin could feel the Count's hand caressing his shoulder with intent.

"Also something about that I read... but I'm not sure ..." Martin replied doubtfully "I only know that they were stories that spread throughout her kingdom in Vienna.”

"Do not you think vampires can also be aristocratic? Can you imagine all the characters within the nobility who might have been?" inquired the tempting Count, smirking.

"In that case they would still be alive, vampires possess immortality, right?" answered Martin this time more boldly.

The Count's smile grew more prominent.

"In fact, many may be as old as humanity itself," Richard said in response, and stroked the blond's shoulder again as the carriage continued to drive them to the Count's mansion. Through the windows and due to the noise on the roof they could see that it was starting to rain outside.

"Well, but since they are only fictional beings, none of this can be real, it's not like a vampire could live among us," the blond said at last, with a small, ironic chuckle.

"So you think all those remedies against vampires are useless? A collective hysteria has been aroused against vampires since the last century, far more than it had ever been since time immemorial," said the Count, feigning concern. Really none of this made him afraid, the conventional remedies that people had invented had never fully served him. He even liked to make satire of it.

"Err ... I do not know, maybe some serve somehow ... like for example, show a cross in front of them. But no, in the end I think it's better to be objective, vampires are just mythological beings" said the timid blond , He was concerned about the Count's daring that at the same time also enjoyed and made him very nervous that at that moment the rain was increasing.

For his part the sudden rain was a point in his favor because with the clouds was hidden the sun that hurt him so much. It was true that as the Count himself had said, there were some mistaken aspects about vampires. It was not as if the light of the sun were to kill him at once by letting some lightning strike him, the sun was not that deadly to them, but he had to be careful not to stay too long in daylight because that could weaken him terribly and that would gradually lead to his impending death. The key was not to have prolonged exposure.

"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Freeman, after all the cross could be the most powerful symbol against evil ..." commented the Count in a friendly tone and smiled briefly. But he was being rather ironic.

"The rain is increasing ..." muttered the blond to settle the issue a little.

"Nothing more perfect for this afternoon," said the seductive Count.

At that moment Martin considered that the vampires could only go out at night, as was told in innumerable stories, but suddenly he wondered why he had suspected for a moment that Count Richard was one of those undead. Perhaps it was only that the idea of taking him as the model of the protagonist of his work had been in his mind and his unusual appeal made the idea irresistible.

"I hope it does not get worse," the blond responded timidly. The Count's hand seemed to be running down his back.

It was not long before the carriage finally arrived at the front of the Count's great mansion. The rain had not stopped, but fortunately it had not worsened either. But it made the sky darker. And as he looked out of the window, Martin felt he could get a little wet before reaching the main entrance.

"We have arrived, Mr. Freeman," the Count announced when the carriage stopped inside the property, just in front of the façade. Martin gave a very low sigh, recognizing the same place where he had been several nights ago, through the glass of the window that was covered with raindrops.

"Oh, yes, I have already noticed," said the blond in reply, looking at the Count for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Freeman, the rain is still unstoppable," said the Count without losing his elegance. "Fortunately, I am always prepared," he said and pulled out from under the seat a long, dark red umbrella, which made a very good combination with his suit.

Martin was amazed to see the umbrella in the Count's hand, or perhaps it was that he could never stop thinking that any element made him look much more elegant than he already was.

"Ah, that seems very wise of you, Mr. Count," said Martin, and then a footman opened the door of his carriage and invited them out with a bow, even though the rain was wetting him, while in his hand he had an open umbrella to cover the passengers until they were out of the vehicle.

"Thank you, James," the count said to his footman as he got out of the car. Standing outside he offered his hand to the blond Martin to help him out in a chivalrous manner. Martin again enjoyed his gallant attention and thanked him. As the Count took his hand to help him out of the carriage, their gazes met, and at that moment Martin felt an urge to kiss him, a far stronger impulse than he had thought before. But he tried to dispel it from his mind at once.

It was not long before the Count opened his own umbrella and immediately covered his blond guest.

"I would not want you to get wet in this rain, Mr. Freeman," the Count whispered with sensuality.

Martin blushed a little and looked away but obeyed the Count's offer when he kindly indicated to approach him to cover both with his umbrella.

"Thank you, sir," the blond man whispered quietly, and so they walked together on the wet floor to the front steps of the house where a servant was waiting for them with the door open.

Martin looked up at the house and looked closely at the mansion. Even though the rain was still falling, there was daylight enough to look in more detail at the big house, something he had not been able to do the first time he had been there nights ago. He noticed that high above the ceiling were some black figures that were little distinguishable to him at that distance but that from there they seemed to be some sort of small gargoyles, that no doubt made good combination with the rest of the gothic style of the house. But Martin's astonishment was interrupted when the Count called him.

"Let's go inside, Mr. Freeman," said the Count, as he laid his cold hand on the blond's back to lead him along the way.

"Ah, yes, of course, Mr. ..." Martin replied succinctly. And the Count kept his hand on his back. Martin could feel a sort of icy sensation at the touch, even if he was covered by a long coat. And yet this sensation was also pleasurable, inspiring, which in turn magnified his uneasiness because he was entering again into the great mansion of the Count. This time they would be totally alone. Only the two together. That excited him greatly.

Together they entered the corridor, not without first giving their coats to the servant, who had waited for them at the main entrance, to keep them.

"Let's go straight to my office, Mr. Freeman, inside is my personal collection which I want to show you," said the Count, and Martin nodded. That way they walked directly to the office.

Inside, Martin could see how wide it was. He was greatly excited, and at the same time, as soon as the Count Richard closed the door, Martin felt a tightness in his chest from a sudden sense of cloister. It was all so strange, but he could not avoid his desire to remain there, alone with the handsome Count in a more intimate and interesting place like that.

"I hope you like my personal office, Mr. Freeman," the Count said with a very soft hiss in his voice as he approached one of the tables of the place to light a lamp that partially illuminated the room. Through the window a little daylight still came in, but outside it was still raining. Martin smiled briefly to show kindness and gratitude.

"I could not dislike such an admirable place, I did not imagine that your office was so large and full of shelves and interesting objects," said Martin, a little nervous. The Count approached him slowly, drawing a reckless smile on his lips and still looking at him with interest.

"I am glad that in the first instance you're taking a very good impression of my personal office of my mansion, Mr. Freeman" said the Count in a softer voice, "and I am very happy to have the opportunity to talk to you a lot more about those very interesting matters that concern us, Something that on that occasion could not be very possible because my talk was prolonged with Benedict," said the Count calmly, for Martin the Count's voice and all his bearing never ceased to seem extremely seductive.

Having mentioned Benedict, the blond suddenly realized that he had not thought about him so much and suddenly that made him feel guilty indeed, because Benedict was his boyfriend and had agreed to even wait for him while leaving the premises. But he was too distracted by that guilt every time the Count returned to him, speaking almost to his ear in his grave and seductive voice, and then it was the first time that Martin recognized to himself, at least a little, that Count Richard really attracted him sexually, much more than as a simple role model to follow in his work. Count Richard was a man who really succeeded in provoking an exciting attraction.

"Ah, well ...I guess that talk was very important, you must have very important talks with your employees ... and…" the nervous blond mumbled.

"They are, indeed ... that is why I am anxious because you also become someone who works with me ..." whispered the Count seductively.

At that moment, Martin was cornered against one of the tables that were in the room, and when he realized the Count was already invading his personal space. The situation became more and more uncomfortable, although Martin did not really want it to end.

"The honor would be entirely mine, sir," muttered the blond in reply, with a more coquettish tone that drove the Count to himself. But suddenly the Count stopped and took a few steps back to stop cornering his blond guest.

"Truly for me to have an excellent writer like you right here in this very intimate space in my own house, it is extremely exciting, Mr. Freeman," the Count said with effusiveness adorned with provocation. The blond's cheeks reddened again and, seeing him like this in the light of the lamp and a few candles that were also lit, the Count imagined how delicious it must be that blood of him that was now under his skin. He was greatly tempted to lick his lips in front of him, but he gave up.

"Haha!" Martin chuckled, trying to sound discreet.

"Is that funny?" Inquired the Count smiling and a little confused.

"No, it's just ... I really cannot believe that a recognized noble like you would refer to me that way, after inviting me to be alone to see your personal collection. It's just ... I'm a simple amateur writer of fables and stories, I'm not even a novelist... " explained the timid blond and with elusive eyes, his hands moved nervously on the chest of the Count who was in front of him, intending to take the blond in his arms.

"You are a very talented man, Mr. Freeman, and you are writing a great novel that will fit everyone's taste for posterity, that's for sure," said the Count, approaching him again while recklessly taking one of his hands and lifted it to his face, to kiss it again subtly.

Martin was filled with embarrassment at the sudden act, never before had anyone done it, much less a distinguished gentleman who exercised upon him so much mystery and sexual attraction.

There was an uneasy silence, caused by the pause they both stared into each other's eyes, a mutual alienation. Outside the rain seemed inclement, it had gotten worse and the big drops hit the windows. And Martin was again cornered, the Count's arms seemed to want to slide over his body with the desire to embrace him, but before he did, the blond decided that it was best to avoid it, it was not right, he had to change the situation, and he moved aside to get away from him.

"I thank you very much for your gratitude and above all for your compliments, sir," muttered the highly restrained blond and averted his gaze. He pretended to cough a little, then adjusted his waistcoat with some nervousness. And the Count only smiled, the situation amused him greatly.

"Well, I think I'd better start showing you my library, Mr. Freeman. You can stop by, please," said the Count kindly.

With a graceful bow, the Count directed the way and Martin nodded. Then they walked down a small corridor that connected the study to another room. Opening the door, Martin could see with admiration that it was a larger and more magnificent library than he had imagined, with high shelves full of books of all kinds.

"What do you think, Mr. Freeman?" inquired the Count in a whispering voice.

"It's just wonderful with the naked eye!" exclaimed Martin with moderate effusiveness, he really was very excited about the place but did not want the Count to think he was rude.

"Please, Mr. Freeman, have a seat ..." the Count invited him as he brought a fine wooden chair with velvet cushions. Martin nodded politely and obeyed and soon pronounced.

"Ah, sir, if you do not mind I would really like to start immediately to consult the books" said the blond a little self-conscious. The Count gave a brief smile.

"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Freeman. First, we could talk a little about the concept of the vampire and how you handled it in your exalted manuscripts, which you showed me in my office of my company. You would describe it yourself and tell me personally, Mr. Freeman," the Count asked solemnly, still standing in front of him still without a seat.

"Well, as I believe I have already mentioned, I have tried to take references from the oldest oral tradition of which we have a story ... even from the millennial beliefs of distant regions ..." began to say the blond, looking away a little while the Count listened intently, standing before him.

"China, ancient Rome, perhaps ... the regions of the Mediterranean ..." said the Count Richard in an elegant voice, though serene indeed sounded enthusiastic. Martin moved a little nervous in his own seat, made him feel uncomfortable the fact that the Count decided to stand in front of him because his pose made him look stunning and the candle lights that illuminated his silhouette enhanced even more his gallantry.

// He really is very handsome ... // the blond thought to himself while was admiring the face and masculine body of the Count, everything in him attracted him exceedingly, his imposing bearing, his dark hair that intrigued him greatly, his blue eyes very brilliant, his face and the incipient beard that now adorned his face. He did not think he'd seen such a man before that attracted him that way.

"Err... yes, those old regions ... and ..." the blond began to stammer, the Count's presence distracted him too much.

At that moment, Martin noticed that on one of the walls there were several daguerreotypes hanging. He could see that in each of those pictures the Count had posed with a very elegant posture, like the one he had seen a while ago in his magazine office, and then he could not help remembering the photo of his late cousin who had accompanied him every night to watch his dream since the last few more than twenty years, trying to deceive death. The photo of his deceased cousin was the only one he possessed, because it was still difficult to afford to have one, so he was very much surprised that the count had several daguerreotypes only in his personal library.

The Count realized immediately that those photographs of him had aroused the interest of the blond and smiled sideways with malice.

"I see you like my daguerreotypes, Mr. Freeman," said the instigating Count.

"They are very good daguerreotypes, and I cannot avoid the admiration of you have several," Martin admitted.

"And throughout the house I have even more, also some paintings that surely you would like to see later" commented the smiling Count.

At that moment Martin wondered if the Count lived only in that immense mansion, excepting his servants, but did not dare to ask.

"I ... I have a daguerreotype with a frame similar to that, it is placed in my bedroom ... other than that one it is not common for me to see so many daguerreotypes together" the blond commented encouraged pointing out one of the danced daguerreotypes. The Count noticed his enthusiasm in his words, but soon Martin looked away shyly again.

"The daguerreotype of a close relative, I suppose ..." commented the Count, who already knew well that the portrait Martin referred to was that of his dead cousin more than two decades ago.

Martin was shaken by it, but he could not imagine that the Count had in fact known his cousin alive and that he himself had seen the daguerreotype by stalking him in his bedroom while he slept to drink his blood and quench his thirst, besides the carnal impulsive desires that he provoked him.

"Ah, yes ... the portrait of my late cousin ... who died several years ago," the blond admitted, unable to fake his astonishment.

" _Memento mori_ ... a photograph of deceased... how nostalgic they turn out to be, besides they play to deceive the death... or so they say" said the Count in a lugubrious voice. Martin felt a kind of chill run through his body as he heard him say that, for Count Richard had been truthful, for he had guessed that his cousin Charles's daguerreotype was a postmortem portrait.

"I do not know if I should believe in those things ..." Martin muttered irresolutely, dodging his gaze. The Count smiled again.

"Well, it's part of the collective consciousness, Mr. Freeman. It might also be true, the possibilities are endless, but in my opinion I do not think it's something creepy, rather I think it's a beautiful thing, Because it allows the living to maintain that bond and not only the best memory of their relatives who have left. It is a privilege that technology has brought us to this prodigious nineteenth century, something that some decades ago nobody had imagined," said the wise Count, Martin again alienated himself from his attractive elegance and the seductive tone of his very masculine voice.

"It's true ... thanks to this wonderful invention of man we can keep a faithful image of people...or our beloved ones…especially when they have left" commented the timorous blond. The Count returned to him and smirked.

"You're right, I think it is better to preserve the best image of people, whether alive or dead. That is why I think it would be a waste to not have an image of you, Mr. Freeman, you being such a handsome man," said Richard, provocatively and graciously. Martin blushed at once.

"Ah ... but that ..." the blond hesitated. Soon he felt the Count's hand one more time resting on his shoulder and the usual strange, cold touch of his caress.

"So I invite you to take a daguerreotype with me one of these days, Mr. Freeman. I assure you that if you accept, you will make me very happy," said the Count, looking at him. Martin shivered again.

"Of course, it would be an honor," Martin replied in a trembling voice.

"By the way, by adding this element to your novel, it is known that vampires do not reflect themselves in mirrors, nor can they be photographed because they are not beings that reflect the light ..." said Count Richard with a friendly smile, in fact he was being ironic, because in him those things were certainly not true.

"Yes, that's how those characteristics had been kept in all these legends..." Martin said hesitantly, he did not know why the Count had suddenly decided to comment on that.

At that moment the Count went to a display case that was in the library and from there he took out a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses.

"Would you like a drink, Mr. Freeman?" inquired the Count as he began to serve a little of the wine over the glass. Martin nodded kindly and decided to get up from his seat and take it for himself.

"Yes, thank you very much," replied the blond timidly, retracted, taking in his hands the cup that the Count was reaching him at that moment.

Their fingers of both touched in the act, the icy sensation of the strangely pleasurable touch filled Martin with a great inner excitement and filled with anxiety to the Count, and they both smiled to each other for a moment, seductively.

Then the Count also began to pour for himself a drink.

"Very good wine, sir," said the blond after sucking a little of the glass, whose content was reflected beautifully red, analogous to the color of fresh blood.

"I'm glad you like it, Mr. Freeman," said the Count, swinging his own cup a little between his now naked fingers.

After giving a couple more sips to the drink and continuing the talk, finally the Count decided to lead his guest to the shelves where they were books of thick volumes and old appearance, surely they were books that kept many secrets. And the Count Richard took one of them, which he immediately dusted off with a cloth.

"Look, Mr. Freeman, I'm sure you'll find this extremely interesting ... documentation of important characters that had dark and frightening stories. The writings also include their genealogical trees and the real branches of each of them," the Count commented as he placed the heavy old book on one of the tables, opening it in half so that Martin could observe it.

"How did you know that I was interested in knowing the dark history of some aristocrats, Mr. Count?" inquired the blond, disconcerted and with a nervous smile. Richard smiled at him.

"Intuition, Mr. Freeman, just as I had it when I told you about the daguerreotype of your beloved late cousin just a while ago," said the Count, at that moment looked sinister. Martin was even more disturbed, had not told him that the Count had addressed the subject of postmortem portrait he kept his dead cousin.

Martin smiled again and said nothing more, and turned his attention to the old pages where the said genealogical trees were shown. The pages no doubt looked quite old and weathered but the letters were perfectly legible and made with an old printing press, with fine capital letters and other beautiful ornate decorations. Martin was amazed to be able to consult an old book like that one, which, judging by its appearance, was probably at least two hundred years old.

"Do you know the stories of these characters, Mr. Freeman?" asked the Count, daring to gently slide his hand over the blond's back, sliding down his spine until he stopped the tips of his fingers almost over his butt. Martin knew it was too audacious on his part, but he did not say anything. And he felt a sense of intemperate emotion.

"Err... not at all, I've read some of them but to tell you the truth ... I've needed many sources of information ... because nowhere is it easy to find old books as interesting as this one" muttered the blond, getting lost in the Internal madness that caused him the cold and daring caress of the Count on his lower back.

"Do not worry, Mr. Freeman, I will teach you myself, and show you all the books that you need from this old library," said the Count seductively.

"I thank you, Mr. Conde, and well ... I think ... the figure of an aristocrat could be extremely appealing to my writing, something that deceives the victim by hiding the true monstrous nature of a vampire," said the blond. Richard laughed internally.

"Have you ever contemplated relying on any particular model, Mr. Freeman? Have you imagined the concept in which you would describe it? I confess I have great curiosity," exclaimed the Count effusively, not yet taking his reckless hand over the back of the self-conscious blond, his caresses seemed to increase more.

"Mmmh ... no, I still have not thought exactly how it would be, that is ... I think it would be good if it were a prince ... with dark hair like night ... and ..." hesitated the extremely nervous blond, the Count's caresses over his back became more insinuating as their eyes were fixed on each other, something quite exciting. Martin still considered the brightness in the Count's bluish look to be unusual, a look with a glow that looked supernatural, and this time he could see it much closer.

"In that case ... perhaps the story of this prince, who lived a few centuries ago in Continental Europe, could interest you," the Count said in a whispering voice and began to change the pages of the old book to show Martin where he was beginning to tell the biography of a Hungarian prince of very ancient and important lineage.

Martin looked at the text carefully and began to read the first page a bit, while he could feel the breath of Count Richard near his ear. The writing described the most important aspects of this prince and on the next page was a drawing that tried to represent the image of what had been that prince, an archaic drawing without too much detail that nevertheless managed to capture well its main characteristics, with a style still medieval, as were dark hair and a short but abundant beard on his face. Something in the picture was extremely familiar to him, as if he had seen it before, but he did not consider that he had any resemblance to the Count, whom he had never seen with such a beard.

"It seems extremely interesting," said the blond with a slightly difficult voice, after finishing reading the first page, which was written in ancient English but had managed to understand well.

"I must confess that there is not much of this character written in books in English, but there are several in Latin, Hungarian, Romanian .... I could also show you them if you wish," the Count commented in a whispering voice.

"Ah, it would be good, but do you think it would be right to take inspiration from this character?" inquired the dubious blond after the Count finally pulled away from him and tried to move back to the shelf.

"Surely, since he was an aristocrat with a dark past ... cruel and ruthless," the Count explained, turning back to him for a moment, then he took another old book from the bookshelf.

Martin was silent for a moment until the Count Richard placed the other book on the table, next to the another one, and then opened its pages.

"I know how much you are interested in ruthless beings, is not it?" Richard asked, approaching him again with a graceful step.

Martin felt much more nervous, again he was feeling cornered, although in truth the whole time he stayed with the Count felt that way.

"What do you mean?" inquired Martin nervously.

"I must say that you stories have fascinated me a lot, especially for your characters, you always endow them with a magnificent psychology, like the one you wrote in that extraordinary short creepy story. The murderer who rose from the dead thirsting for revenge, was so cruel and ruthless with his unfortunate victims that only reading it almost caused me insomnia, I mean because I feared to have nightmares due to that. Really terrific, Mr. Freeman," expressed the Count, ironic but sincere. Truly, he was really in love with Martin's talent, but it was not at all true that his horror stories would frighten him when the true infernal monster was him.

Martin did not know what to say, he tried to dodge his gaze as wide as possible, his feelings at that moment were a mixture of perturbation and excitement at the Count's adulation and he knew that his cheeks were more than likely blushing, and that only increased much more his embarrassment.

And after a brief pause, the Count continued speaking. "That's why I do not regret to consider you my favorite writer," said the Count in a most sensual voice as he ventured to take the blond's hand in his for a moment to again kiss the back of this.

"Mr. Count, please I ..." hesitated the blond trying to protest a little, but he certainly did not want to avoid seduction, each of the Count's promptings were too attractive.

"You are very fascinating, Mr. Freeman," whispered the Count with utter seduction, still kissing the back of his hand, now with greater anxiety "superbly talented and yet so naive... pure... virginal..." whispered the Count in a subtly hoarse voice, Pausing only a little between each kiss-desperate-that he gave to the hand of his blond guest.

Martin was filled with shame, the Count kept kissing his hand and when he stopped, Martin could see what his intention was next. Soon the Count's face seemed to draw closer to him with daring, but suddenly he stopped short.

"I do not think this is good... besides, I must say that this causes me embarrassment," said the blond nervous.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Freeman, I do not want to make you uncomfortable, but it is inevitable for me to show the great admiration you cause me, my great admiration for your exquisite beauty and your wonderful talent," the Count said very seductive but with a little more seriousness in his face.

Martin showed a more serious expression on his face in protest. Internally he was totally baffled. He was agitated, his heart was pounding. But in spite of it, he was really enjoying the shameless seduction on the part of the Count, now he was almost certain that it was his seduction, but he still remained a part of consciousness in his mind and that was why he knew that he could not continue to allow it and then his expression became more rigid.

The Count realized his protest and pulled away from him again, taking a few steps back to stop invading his personal space.

"You are annoyed, Mr. Freeman. I am truly sorry for my daring behavior," said the Count, apologetically. But Martin's frown was still frowning.

"Lord Count, please do not continue doing this..." muttered the blond, very shamed, embarrassed, but also not very sure after all. Suddenly he was feeling self-conscious again, Richard was a Count of a very important family and instead he was just a simple man with a still ordinary job. There could be no point of comparison between the two, the ranks and the poverty, could not demand anything to a Count like him.

But the Count was not annoyed or indignant at all, he was enjoying again seeing so closely the shyness of the blond, which smelled delicious to his vampiric perception. His eagerness to take Martin in his arms grew stronger and stronger. Martin was becoming more and more irresistible for him.

Martin continued avoiding the look, expressing in his face his confusion and anguish at getting out of this uncomfortable situation, but he did not move from his place or even tried to do so. And the Count was still standing in front of him, almost cornering him in wait, admiring his beauty and smiling with malice, which Martin could not at that moment notice as his attention foolishly remained obstinate in looking at his feet, he did not want to meet his face again off the Count Richard in front.

Neither of them uttered another word for a few seconds, in the room there was an uncomfortable silence, until the matter settled a little, and then the Count pronounced.

"Did you know that some vampires are not quite happy with their condition?" inquired the Count, slightly diverting the uncomfortable moment. But Martin was still serious.

"Yeah ... well, that's an element that has been suggested in recent times, especially in that series of writings like that one called _Varney, The Vampire_ ... you know, the main character's conflicts over hating his condition as a vampire," said the blond.

" _The feast of blood_... a magnificent contemporary vampire literature... though not as magnificent as you will capture with your wonderful imagination in your novel, I’m sure Mr. Freeman," the Count Richard said softly.

At that moment without thinking, Martin loosened the little neck tie he was wearing, the uncomfortable situation had caused his body temperature to increase a bit, felt a sudden heat and that made him want to shed such a tie. But he soon gave up on it, would not be polished on his part to remove it in front of the important Count, also nor could he reveal those marks that had appeared in his neck for weeks and that he was still thinking were the result of some indication that his health was wrong

"I'm sorry, it's just that it suddenly I felt hot..." muttered the blond sideways and again embarrassed.

"I understand ... even though the night is getting cold..." added the Count as he watched exquisitely the way Martin continued to tie the tie around his neck.

"Yes, that's strange ... but I do not want to get rid of this, I just want to adjust it a bit" said the hesitant blond. The Count was astonished to look at his white neck he wanted so badly to bite again.

Outside, the rain continued to rage.

"You can use that mirror, if you wish," the Count suggested, pointing to an oval mirror on one of the walls.

"Thanks," the blond hesitated and obeyed his request and headed for the mirror in front of which began tying his tie. Martin noticed that he was sweating and felt himself ashamed. He noted discreetly that those sharp red marks were still marked on his neck and strangely when he saw them he thought he felt a little weak, as it was usual to feel in the mornings. Still attentive to the marks of his neck, Martin could suddenly feel the Count's hands daringly circling his waist and with a start he turned immediately to him. Those caresses were truly lascivious, much more pronounced than the ones that Count Richard had daringly done to him, but Martin could not help them, it was as if his body suddenly did not respond at all and all of this exerted a reaction in his crotch. Besides, as he turned toward him and despite the difference in height, Martin had looked up at the Count to meet his handsome, manly face, which looked at him with anxious lust. They were both in front of the mirror, but Martin, standing on his back, could not see that only he was reflected in the mirror, could not realize that the figure of the Count Richard could not be reflected, irrefutable proof of his condition of vampire.

Martin was still hypnotized by his seduction, while the Count was now sliding his fingers over the blond's tie to observe his bare neck, which showed the marks he himself had made him several nights ago. And suddenly, in a desperate movement, the Count brought his mouth to the neck of his guest, showing his sharp fangs, threatening to bite. But until that moment Martin could not see it, suddenly he was just getting carried away by the seduction of this strange man, and clung to his arms, strong, masculine, waiting for the Count to continue exploring his body with his exasperated hands.

But then the Count stopped and his fangs seemed to shrink a little, retractable, to fix his eyes on those of the blond who had managed to get excited.

"Ahh," moaned the blond, feeling that the Count's caresses had become increasingly obscene. The Count's large hands were now palpating his crotch, finding his already hardened member as his supernatural gaze kept fixed on him with perversity.

"You are so beautiful ... Martin ... and precious is your blood, the elixir of life" whispered the Count with great excitement.

Martin could not understand what was happening, the very attractive Count Richard was assaulting his intimacy, and suddenly began to feel the Count's lips perching on his own that united in a stolen kiss, gradually desperate. And Martin gave in at all times.

The blond, though still fearful, hugged him tightly, while the Count's hands continued to caress his whole body. The kiss was intoxicating him with an indescribable pleasure in an instant, and thus, alienated from such exciting new sensations, suddenly Martin felt a strange pressure on his lips, and after that a metallic taste in his mouth.

Without separating his lips from the Count's lips, a few drops sprouted from the corners of his lips, the Count's tongue continued to penetrate and dominate his, testing the blood that had just sprouted, and Martin clung more to Richard's back, at that moment his impulses could allow him to do whatever he liked at will with his body, even to get beyond kisses and caresses, something really carnal, even if he was aware that it was crazy.

But despite the sublime ecstasy Martin could feel in that kiss, something unusual and certainly uncomfortable, were the fangs of the vampire that stood between their tongues, but the blond could not even imagine or conceive that. Finally, the kiss subsided a little and the Count licked the precious blood that stained the lips of his victim, now red. And seeing his face well, Martin could see with amazement his true face as a vampire, his eyes glittering red and his sharp fangs stained with his blood, which he had tried again. For the Count, an exquisite delicacy that returned him vitality, even if it was little consumption, just a few drops.

"What’s going on?" the blond asked himself, perplexed by the sudden situation, the metallic taste of his own blood was in his mouth. A slight stabbing pain in his lower lip made him realize that his fear had become true, had been the victim of a vampire bite. He had realized with horror that the handsome and herculean Count was actually a vampire.

As Martin continued to try to understand, the vampire licked his lips, savoring the precious blood of the blond he had enjoyed in that rapturous kiss, and his sharp fangs flickered as his burning gaze, gifted with a supernatural splendor of brilliance, and that gaze was still fixed on the blond with great depravation.

"Ah ..." Martin groaned again as he felt the Count's invasive hands thrust into his trousers, exploring inside with the eagerness to impudently stimulate the bulk of his crotch, and the Count seemed not to be willing to pronounce more word until accomplishing all his tasks, approaching his mouth this time towards the white neck of his guest. His sharp fangs showed up again, and Martin knew what was about to happen, but something about him prevented him from even trying to counter a bit of resistance. He knew that the Count Richard, who was actually a vampire, was about to prick him and suck his blood.

Martin only closed his eyes tightly and waited in fear for that to happen.

And he felt the prick, and the pressure as he felt the fangs of the monster sting, the way he began to suck, and the vileness of how he enjoyed feeding himself. But then, Martin no longer knew anything else, his mind turned black and suddenly he lost consciousness.

And in a few moments after the blond awoke abruptly from his hallucination, surely that was because he discovered with a start that he was sitting again in the fine chair with velvet lining, and Inexplicably the Count was in front of him slowly swaying his glass of wine between his fingers.

"What happened?" inquired the blond in a voice very low, almost inaudible, trying to look around him without explanation. It was as if nothing of that had happened, everything seemed intact, even his tie, his clothes. There was not even a metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and his neck did not hurt, and the clock hands on the wall had not progressed since the last time Martin had seen them. And to his question by surprise, the Count did not flinch, and smiled.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Freeman?" inquired the Count, feigning confusion and concern.

Martin leaned back in his place, resigned, trying to assimilate his apparently madness.

"Oh no, nothing ... I think it's just my lack of sleep, insomnia has affected me, I guess" said the blond trying to convince himself that everything had been a product of his imagination.

"Well, Mr. Freeman, would you like to have another glass of wine? Surely it will help you to relax," asked Count Richard kindly, beckoning him to take another glass that was beginning to serve for him.

Martin was still terribly puzzled, almost panicked because everything had seemed so real and at the same time he was convinced that it had not been, none of that sensuous vampire domination had ever occurred. Everything had been an illusion to blame for his stubborn obsession with the subject, and with the great sexual attraction he already felt for the Count. But the Count Richard was not even a vampire, he tried to convince himself.

"Ah, yes, it would be fine..." muttered the blond in reply, irresolute and with a hesitant voice. The Count noticed in his eyes his anguish, even from his distance, and finished serving the cup and then approached it for him.

And anxiously and in spite of everything he was still full of doubts, as the Count approached him again, Martin's gaze went to the mirror, for if the Count did not reflect on him it would be irrefutable proof of his vampiric nature . But to his surprise, and perhaps apparent relief, Martin could see the Count's back reflected in the mirror.

Upon realizing it, Martin breathed a sigh of relief he could not help himself and took the glass in his hands, which he then discovered were shaking.

"Please, Mr. Freeman, let's continue to talk about these interesting subjects, it is always a delight to hear your subtle voice," said the Count in a calm, sensual voice, and having him close, Martin could see that there was nothing unusual about his teeth, sharp or blood-stained, nor the glitter of his gaze seemed to be supernatural. Martin gave a brief sigh again.

"You are right, sir. We could go on talking about the origins, as I said before, those who come from ancient times ..." muttered the shy blond, sipping some of the wine from the glass.

"By the way, do you think that's true? The fact that vampires can turn into fog at will to stalk their victims from the privacy of their bedrooms," said the handsome Count with a smile on his lips.

"I have read about those old American legends that talk about vampire bats and recently read that Darwin is researching on these animals, it might be interesting to add it to the writing," he said the blond.

"I have just the books of Mr. Darwin here and in fact I know him in person," said the Count.

"That's really great!" exclaimed the blond, surprised to know that the Count knew him in person.

At that moment the rain outside was still falling. And Martin turned his gaze to the pendulum clock on the wall, realizing that they had talked for a long time and that night had just fallen. He had to stay there until the rain stopped.

And so the Count continued to show several of his old books to the blond and admired that Martin decided to make some notes with his own pen and ink in that place and time, not to lose too many details, because his calligraphy was truly unmatched and Richard was a beauty-loving vampire of several of the qualities of humans, and Martin actually possessed many.

And those very qualities were what made his precious blood exquisite, like no other. Blood that had fed him that night again, the elixir of life, precious blood that would continue to feed him for a long time more. The seduction of that night had given him a glorious feast, and Martin would soon be entirely his own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last I was able to update this fic! ;w; - drags - I really wanted to update it since Halloween and I could not Dx many things prevented me but I'm back with this sexy story full of sexual tension. I hope you liked this chapter and I apologize if I made mistakes.  
> Don’t miss what will happen in future chapters! You will see all the pleasures that the sexy Count Richard is going to teach his blond blood slave! owó  
> Many thanks for all your comments and Kudos! :3


	5. Oneiric lasciviousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin continues having a pleasant coexistence in the company of the handsome Count Richard in his great mansion. In the midst of the gradual sexual tension between the two, the Count shows him his personal collection in his library to enrich Martin's inspiration for his new vampiric novel. Martin continues without having enough suspicions that Richard is a real vampire and that he has become his main victim that he feeds with his blood every night and that little by little will lead him to the carnal debauchery that will be inevitable when Martin is forced -and incited- to stay one night to sleep in his mansion.

                                         

 

**Chapter 5 - Oneiric lasciviousness**

 

 

"The rain has not stopped," the blond Martin muttered as he paused briefly as he wrote his notes in the notebook he had brought with him. He glanced sideways at the large window of the Count's luxurious office, the curtains of fine purple velvet were not fully drawn and they could see what was happening outside. Martin could see that the rain also increased, and that often distracted his attention. In addition every time it was done later to go home. It was already very late.

The Count noticed Martin's concern, but he had not stopped admiring him attentively. Seeing that the restlessness of his blond guest became great, the Count approached him with stealth and being right in front of him, he pronounced.

"I notice you are very worried, Mr. Freeman, is it because of the rain?" the handsome Count asked him with a melodic, seductive voice. At that moment the blond again paused in his writing and raised his eyes a little to Richard.

"Ah, yes, I cannot lie to you, the truth is that this rain worries me, it's too late to go home, I do not know how I can fix it, that's why I'm restless, I'm sorry," the blond said timidly as he returned to try to fix his attention on his writings in a vain attempt to deflect the gaze that the Count had towards him.

"Oh, wow, you do not have to worry about that, Mr. Freeman, I can take you in my carriage back home safely, although I fear that it will have to be until the rain stops, because for now it has become a total storm," the Count Richard said in a calm voice, without stopping a single moment the seductive look he had on him. Martin was still internally embarrassed by that seductive gaze that however at the same time he enjoyed too much.

"But I fear that by then it will be too late, in fact it already is, maybe at this time you would like to be in bed resting and not attending to a simple guest like me whom you barely know" mused the blond ashamed.

But before his comment the Count smirked, being perfectly aware of his true infernal condition to hear Martin's comment had been totally ironic, it was obvious that during the night he did not sleep and on the contrary he remained much more active than at any time of the day

"Ah, it's not a problem for me, in fact I consider myself a nocturnal being" replied the Count without blurring the smirk of his face, his seductive smile that, without being able to avoid it, led to a very brief laugh.

That made a strange impression on Martin, although the Count had not shown his irony too much, Martin did not suspect that the handsome dark-haired man's words were literal.

"Ah, I see, I have to assume that maybe you suffer insomnia like me, I have suffered the same for some periods of time throughout my life" commented the blond in a shy voice but struggling to look up at the Count and maintain eye contact mutually, though those blue eyes of the dark-haired prince alienated him too much at every moment.

The Count gave a short giggle again, Martin noticed that this time his smile was more pronounced as the Count took another step forward. By this time both were standing facing each other beside the desk, and their gazes remained fixed to each other despite the large difference in statures that, although they did not admit it, excited them both.

"Haha, yes, something like that, I suppose, although it must be that I have always preferred the tranquility of the night, one can always concentrate better if there is no disturbing noise, do not you think, Mr. Freeman?" Count Richard said in a softened voice, in an instant the man dared to put his right hand, now naked, on one of the shoulders of the blond and then caressed it with subtle intention.

At that moment, the nervousness of the blond increased greatly, fearing that his breathing was strong enough to be heard by the Count, especially given the circumstances in which they were, such closeness and tranquility of the night.

"Ah, you are right, if it were not for the light of the candles are not good enough for the eyes as I write, I would spend the whole night explaining my ideas on paper," replied Martin, this time avoiding the look a bit to avoid getting trapped in Richard's bluish-looking look.

Richard smiled sideways, admiring to see also that profile full of shame and worry of Martin. Richard certainly admired everything of him and at every moment it provoked, and the night was on the edge of the half, just where the day was about to end, the right time in which his appetite for blood not only increased but began to become excessive. The hands of the clock were about to indicate midnight. Soon the peal would ring. Martin watched the clock as he looked away from the Count. Now it was really late to return home and outside the rain was still inclement. There was then a brief and uncomfortable silence between them in the middle of that room that served as an office, the count's hand was still resting on the blond's trembling shoulder and suddenly a light shone through the large window that as soon as it passed made resonate the roar of a lightning

"The storm has become much more violent, now it has turned into an electrical storm" the Count explained, focusing his eyes on the large window for a moment. Then he fixed his gaze on the blonde again, he had noticed the brief start that the lightning had caused him.

"I realize that" the blond said a little seriously. Within him the worry seemed to have been replaced by something of resignation. It was obvious that given the time and weather conditions that night he could not go home. Although he did not know if he could dare to ask the Count to grant him asylum, he knew that this was most likely.

"Do not worry Mr. Freeman, you can stay here tonight in my modest abode, I kindly offer you my roof tonight and I will take you personally to your home early in the morning if you wish," the Count Richard said with great kindness and gallantry.

Martin gave a very brief sigh. Although he had expected the Count to say that, he certainly could not help but feel great shame.

"I'm very sorry to cause you such discomfort, sir," said the self-conscious blond, trying again to look away while the restless fingers of his hands moved inside his pockets.

"It's not a nuisance, in fact I'm really excited to have you here as a special guest, at least for one night," said the sincere Count, on the outside he sounded extremely friendly although inside his perverse desires to take the blond in his arms gradually increased .

"Thank you very much for the invitation Mr. Count, for your concern, for your attention and for the time you have devoted to me these hours" said the blond making a short bow. Richard smiled again with seduction.

"There's no problem at all, Mr. Freeman, and well for now it's quite late, I've spent an unparalleled fun and interesting time at your side, although brief, I'd like to have many more moments like this by your side" commented the Count approaching back to him. Although they were not cornered to the wall, Martin felt cornered by him again, but he liked that too.

"I have also greatly enjoyed your pleasant company, Mr. Count" expressed the blond honestly, blushing a bit without being able to avoid it.

"I would love to prolong our coexistence, but I suppose you would prefer to rest, I would like to sleep well, if you let me say you this, your face looks tired and that really worries me," said the Count, although inside he knew perfectly that he it was the cause of the blond's fatigue. Martin was a little surprised at his comment, had noticed sincerity in his host's concern and looked up for a moment at him and smiled at him affably.

"You're right, sir, I've been really weakening for the last few weeks, and even though I've gone with the doctor, they have not found the reason, they suppose it could be anemia but all the studies indicate that it's not like that" Martin admitted with some seriousness pausing before continuing "although this has not stopped me in my work" he concluded and smiled again at the count.

Richard rested his hand on Martin's shoulder that soon slid down his back, he was trying to incite him and strangely this time Martin began to give a little to his nervousness, the great attraction that the Count caused him and his displays of affection and body contact gradually incited him to reciprocate.

"I ask you to take care of yourself, Mr. Freeman, I honestly do not want something bad to happen to my favorite writer," the Count said in a whispery voice. Martin smiled wryly, despite everything he still thought that Richard's words were mere flattery and did not want to infer why.

"I do that, at least I try hard" said the hesitant blond.

"I think it must be the environment that exists in London, this city has been filled with polluting factories and the population has exploded, leaving all its waste behind, I think it would be very good for you to come and take a vacation to my castle in Romania, as I already suggested it, I assure you that the natural landscape there is extremely benefactor," said the Count inviting him back to his quarters in Continental Europe.

"I would love it, but maybe I cannot afford to take a vacation, much less make such a long trip which must surely be expensive" expressed the distressed blond, did not have the courage to admit that he even had almost no money to eat .

The count smiled with malice, which Martin could not notice because he had ignored the look. Each time he did, Richard could not help to increase his fervent desire to bite his neck.

"Do not worry, if you agree to work for me I invite you to travel with me, I will pay everything for you, including the long trip, because there is no problem for me," said Richard.

"Would you really do that for me?" questioned the blond, hesitant and nervous.

"It is the least I can do in reward for such wonderful writings that I have enjoyed on rainy nights like this, added to your pleasant company," Richard said gallantly.

Martin decided that it would be very impolite on his part to reject his insistent invitation.

"In agreement, I accept, in return I will give my best effort to serve your company well" said the blond turning his gaze towards him. For a very brief moment, Martin thought he saw again the unusual flash in the eyes of the handsome Count, that flash that seemed as bright as lightning. And outside, the thunderstorm continued.

"That makes me very proud, Mr. Freeman, and well, it's done later, I'd better take you to your bedroom," said the Count, both of them had turned to look at the pendulum clock that was just past midnight.

Martin nodded quietly, took his notebook and his briefcase and next to Count Richard came out of that office, which the dark-haired made sure to close well.

While both began to walk down the corridor, Martin could not help but feel a great shudder. The place was not very bright and the few candles that were still lit along the corridor caused the shadows of the objects to lengthen much more.

"Please follow me, Mr. Freeman," said the Count Richard as he boldly placed his hand on the blond's back, slowly moving down to his waist to guide him. On the other hand he carried a candelabrum to illuminate the path.

Martin shuddered even more when he felt his touch that strangely felt literally cold, as if it were an ice.

"Ah, yes, let's go" said the blond in response.

"Oh, but I think I've been too impolite not to invite you to dinner before, you're probably hungry." I beg your pardon, Mr. Freeman, I've given up your time all afternoon and I never offered you any food before." the Count said, still guiding the blond.

Martin realized at the time that he was indeed hungry, had not eaten since midday and had certainly forgotten about it.

"I did not worry, I was the one who decided to interrupt you in your work, and it's already more than midnight to bother you with that, for sure your servants have already gone to sleep" said the blond trying to give a good argument, although to tell the truth he had never had servants so he did not have much idea how a large mansion was managed like that one.

The count laughed succinctly, Martin's comment had moved him despite being a lively demon being in a dead body. Martin did not stop impacting him with all his human qualities and ingenuity, that only had to make his blood even more exquisite for him.

"Ah, that's why there's no problem, I can order you to prepare something special and immediately for you, and you should also eat well, to strengthen your blood, especially if your condition is anemia," the Count said seductively. Martin could feel how the Count's hand was more tightly wrapped around his waist, he could feel his fingers tightening on his fine clothes and that caused him a great emotion that made his heart beat faster.

The vampire rejoiced internally when he heard the acceleration of Martin's heart rate, his demonic ears were able to hear the flow of Martin's blood through his veins and a sixth infernal sense was able to make him feel even its temperature, which undoubtedly became warmer, exquisite.

"Ah," the blond moaned a little bit helplessly as he felt Count Richard's icy fingers tighten on his waist. Martin was ashamed for not being able to avoid emitting such a sound of his voice, he knew that it was evident that the Count had listened to him and waited for fearful response but the Count said nothing, only admired him with the lascivious look that never ceased in his eyes and he enjoyed the moment. In spite of everything they did not stop the walk until the end of the corridor, which was huge and gave way to various doors, as baroque as the office.

"The light of the candle goes out, but soon we will arrive" indicated the Count, continued guiding the nervous blond around the waist.

Martin nodded, still feeling so shuddering and surprised that he did not know what else to say at that moment. The sensation of feeling the vampire's cold fingers on his waist began to cause an inevitable reaction in the groin.

Although the journey did not last long, for Martin it almost seemed an intimidating eternity. Finally they came to a huge room where there was a long dining room with numerous long back chairs with velvet cushions. The ceiling of the room was much higher than that of the other rooms where he had previously been inside the mansion, and the style was a mixture of Baroque and Gothic styles.

"Take a seat please, Mr. Freeman," said Count Richard as he cavalierly pulled out one of the main chairs for the blond to sit down. Martin obeyed. When he sat down it seemed that the reaction in his crotch had fortunately ceased.

"Thank you very much, sir," said the blond, grateful though timid.

Richard smiled wickedly and then rang a small bell that was on the side of the main chair where he usually sat.

"Soon they will bring us the dinner, I hope you enjoy it," Richard said him in an inviting voice, still looking at the blond with rapture.

"Good," whispered Martin succinctly.

"Then I can show you the bedroom where you can sleep tonight," said the Count. Martin felt even more intimidated, the way in which the attractive Count spoke at all times seemed always too sexual, although even at that point he did not fully recognize, it was rather unconscious. And to know that he would spend that night under the same roof as the handsome aristocrat had feared himself for committing something sinful, although he did not want to admit it and believed it was something unlikely.

"Very nice bell, it looks very solid... and heavy, in addition its craftsmanship is..." the blond muttered a random comment to break the tension a little, and then dared to try to play the bell, still lying on the table.

As soon as his fingers reached to touch it, Richard placed his on his, caressing them with subtlety. The contact of his skin was extremely cold, although Martin supposed that could be due to the impetuous weather outside.

"It is, but it's not valuable, it's a simple alloy of steel," Richard replied, still touching Martin's fingers with his. Martin looked up at him and found again with his blue and shocking eyes that with that little illumination were as bright as sapphires. And Richard smiled at him, again with malice.

"I like..." murmured the timid blond, he had to finally admit that he could not stop enjoying that moment.

When he heard him say something as simple as that, it provoked the count's inner excitement, and he contemplated the lips of the blond who had just uttered those tempting words, "I like it", same lips that he wanted so much to try again.

At that moment a couple of servants, of strange appearance, approached the enormous table and placed on it the dishes served with the dinner they brought with them. For Martin they had served chicken with mashed potatoes and vegetables. It did not seem like an out-of-the-ordinary dinner at all.

"I hope you like it, Mr. Freeman," the Count said as the servants now approached him with a plate different from Martin's. The blond perceived that it was something that seemed crude, but due to the low lighting of the candles he wanted to think that his mind was only deceiving him.

Without knowing it, what the Count was about to taste was cuts of human parts bathed in his own fresh blood. The vampire was condemned for eternity to feed only on other humans to be able to maintain himself with "life" since in his body it did not exist. In his body no organ worked anymore, his heart did not beat, his lungs did not breathe, and his stomach did not digest, so he could not feed on any solid that any human ate, his body could only live drinking the blood of his victims that he assimilated by osmosis, although on occasions like this he had to drink it through pieces of some corpse that his infernal lackeys had brought especially for him. This way he would not raise suspicions in his blond guest.

Martin decided not to question anything about it. He supposed it was a strange dish of its origins in Romania.

"Thank you very much for the dinner," the blond said gratefully.

"It's a special dish from Romania, the homeland of my family, maybe it would not be at all palatable for an Englishman," explained the Count, as he made a delicate cut on the macabre human feast he was about to taste.

"It's very good to know that, although we English people like to know what exists in the rest of the world" Martin said after trying the first bite of his own dinner, there was nothing unusual about his food, nothing unusual, and the dish had good seasoning. At that moment the Count signaled his servants to leave, and it was then that Martin noticed that those servants rather than strangers were sinister. He almost had the impression that they did not seem to be entirely human, although that was ridiculous because it was obvious that they were people with normal features, although of a pale appearance.

"We could continue a little with our pleasant talk here, Mr. Freeman, as we are eating, I am eager to continue knowing more about your projects, but also about you," said the Count, savoring the metallic taste of the human blood he was testing. The solid parts of the meat were set aside and hidden whenever Martin was distracted.

"Well, but if you allow me to be bold, I would like to ask you to leave the formalities a little bit. It is clear that you are a distinguished prince and an important gentleman, but in my case I am just a modest writer, so I would prefer that you stop calling me. Mr. Freeman, please" the blond finally asked, although inside he felt embarrassed for daring to request such a thing.

Richard gave a big smile, it was too exciting that Martin himself was asking him for such a thing, because it was something that could bring them closer together, and his rejoicing was magnified much more due to the fact that at that precise moment human blood that he was testing in front of him revitalized him.

"I think it's fine if you want to, what should I call you? Young Freeman? Young Martin?" the audacious Count asked.

"Simply Martin ... that would be fine" admitted the blond although shy. He decided to refocus his attention on finishing his dinner.

"Well, then I can ask for the same, call me please only Richard" said the Count and dared to extend his hand to caress the blond's hand again on the table for a moment.

"But sir, you are a very important Countl!" protested the blond exalted.

"That does not stop us from having this close deal, I have to confess that I'm very excited," said the Count, "so please call me just Richard."

"Okay, okay," the blond whispered quietly. On the inside this also caused him a lot of emotion.

However, Martin was extremely nervous about the situation and decided to settle the issue.

"Ah, what a good portrait, is it a relative of yours? Or is it you?" the blond asked suddenly admiring a large oil painting that was just at the head of the dining room, behind the main seat where Richard was.

From the moment he had entered the room, Martin had been really amazed by that huge painting that portrayed a man very similar to the Count Richard but with abundant beard. Until that moment he had not stopped to observe it in detail but he soon realized that the resemblance of the portrait man with the Count was too much.

"He is an ancestor, Thorin Oakenshield III, a man who lived a long time ago, a man who honored his people and his family in the territories between Bulgaria and Romania more than four centuries ago shortly before the fall of Constantinople," Richard explained. The tone of his voice sounded very serious, very different from the one he had been using all this time. And knowing about that Count's ancestor, Martin was much more intrigued.

Martin remained silent for a moment before continuing, and took the opportunity to eat more of his dinner.

"Oh, well, I really am surprised by the enormous resemblance that the man in the painting has with you, sir. I did not imagine that he had so much seniority, for a moment I thought it could be you or your father because of the great resemblance," said the blond, still trying to sound his surprise discreetly.

"It is what everyone has told me every time they have seen this portrait, although I must say that there are some more of this man in the whole mansion," commented the Count looking at him with charm.

Martin observed that portrait again, carefully observed some details in the oil that had perhaps gone unnoticed before. The painting did not seem too worn out by time, in fact it seemed that the years had not caused any damage to it, even after being created more than four hundred years ago, according to the Count. Possibly they should restore it continuously. In the image of the portrait, which was endowed with a hyperrealism typical of his time, the man was seen wearing a kind of armor that was partially covered by a long carmine coat. The man was certainly the same Count, the exact same face but bearded, you could even see in him the same sharp look in his blue eyes. Martin really doubted that it was an ancestor of centuries ago and not of him. And then he had the impression that he had seen that man before with that same aspect somewhere else. The man in the portrait also had long hair, although combed and tied. He felt again that he had met this man somewhere before, but he could not remember when and where. It was probably just a deja vu.

"No doubt it seems that he was a man of war and not just an aristocrat, I suppose his lineage has been intact for a long time," said the blond, while raising the glass of wine that had served a few minutes ago.

"Indeed, that man lived in times when war was the daily thing and it was necessary to be the strongest to survive, it was a man who served the cross, defended his people under a sacred standard of the Vatican itself. He was also a very hard and cruel man with his enemies but he was also a man who loved a lot" explained the Count convincingly and calmly.

"Then he must also have been a man of faith..." commented the blond in a soft voice "are you a religious man? Do you profess any religion?" he asked curiously, trying not to sound impertinent.

Richard paused before continuing to taste his bloody dish and looked up at him.

"In these times religion has been in decline, do not you think?" said the Count, looking at him with malice.

"I may be right, even though I follow my religion but not in an orthodox way I have to admit" Martin admitted and at that moment he showed a little of the crucifix that he carried and that managed to lean out a little at that moment under his tie.

Richard's reaction was immediate aversion, his sharp vision and his strange sixth sense had managed to notice that object instantaneously although it was small and could not be seen much, and he could feel that this symbol had been blessed in some Christian ceremony.

"Ahh ..." the Count complained a little while trying to pretend it was another cause.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the blond asked totally confused.

Richard knew that he must withstand the terrible annoyance that golden crucifix had caused him.

"No, it's just that I think the extensive work I've had these weeks has caused my neck and back to hurt a little," the Count answered correctly. Luckily that crucifix of the blond had returned to hide under his tie.

"Ah, I see, I know you are a very busy man, that's why I feel so sorry for causing you this inconvenience, I'll hurry to finish my plate so I can let you rest at last" Martin said a little shrug. He really felt greatly embarrassed.

"It has not been any inconvenience, I have repeated it several times, but I do think it would be the best, the best thing is that we both go to bed as soon as possible," said Richard.

"Although I must admit that I really care very much to know more about his ancestor, sir, I mean the man of the oil portrait," said Martin raising his eyes again to the Count and then to the splendid portrait.

"We can speak much more about it when you want, Martin, I can tell you much more and show you other relics of my family" said the Count, smiling with his seductive smile.

Soon Martin finished tasting his plate, Richard also finished his bloody feast and as soon as the servants removed the empty plates another servant who appeared to be a butler, told them that the rooms were ready.

"Please, come with me, Martin, your bedroom for tonight is almost halfway down the hall," said the handsome Count. Martin nodded and followed his step, but the Count did not allow the blond to walk behind him, because he wanted to be with him at all times so he did walk at his side, having the constant urge to embrace his waist with boldness again,  but this time he decided to resist a bit and repressed that.

In front of them also walked the butler, with and oil lamp in hand to guide their way because by that time the candles in the mansion had been turned off almost entirely.

Finally they reached the room indicated, which like the others, was provided with a huge door of some fine wood with carved baroque details. The servant opened the old door that rattled at the act and gave the reverential sign to enter. At that moment, the Count Richard finally did not resist guiding his blond guest by hugging him around the waist. The touch felt cold again even over the clothes, but Martin went crazy again, it was a sensation that he could not get used to but that he did not want to stop either.

"Please...come in, Martin," the Count Richard said, still resting his hand on the blonde's waist.

Martin nodded and they finally made their way into the large room. The butler had only lit a lamp to light the place, and a couple of candles in a candelabrum, so the room could not be fully appreciated but even so Martin could see that it was really huge, he had never been inside a room like that before. It was a huge and luxurious bedroom and he felt really excited to be able to use it that night. The ceiling was high, much more so than his small apartment was, and the double-sized bed was also baroque like the door and it had a canopy on top with a transparent cloth curtain.

"I hope you like the room I chose for you, Martin," the Count said in a softened voice.

"It's really great, how could I not like it? I've never been in such a place before, I greatly appreciate your hospitality and give me such a splendid bedroom" replied the blond smiling, his remarkable emotion was sincere. Upon hearing his thanks and noticing his great impression, Richard felt much more attracted to him and again smiled a big, seductive smile.

"Here is this clothes to sleep so you can rest at ease, my room is just to the side so if you need something please do not hesitate to call me" said the Count with great affability, at that moment Martin could feel how the Count began to take his hand in his to slowly raise it to the height of his lips (which were somewhat cold) and then the dark-haired began to kiss it. Martin blushed greatly at the unexpected act, but never protested or asked him to stop and the blond only smiled nervously.

"Ah, okay, Count ... Richard..." he muttered, "I'll take it completely into account."

At that moment the Count approached him a little closer and to his surprise, Martin rose on the balls of his feet to give him a fleeting kiss on the cheek, but after doing so he could not help but feel a bit overwhelmed by a feeling of guilt not precisely because he was in a relationship with Benedict, but because he knew that he should not get too carried away by his impulses and show such audacity more than with a man, with an aristocrat.

But that act had been sublime and at the same time exceptionally provocative, which rejoiced both of them internally. At this, the Count was stupefied and unable to say a word, and only smiled as he did not stop admiring the face of his blond guest up close. For his part Martin immediately avoided his eyes with embarrassment, took two steps back and tried to excuse himself immediately.

"Excuse me for my great daring, Sir. Count, I let myself go by my impulses, is that I really feel very grateful and very excited to be here in your magnificent mansion, which is surprising" said the blond embarrassed and with a deviant look to the floor. He felt ashamed to look straight at the Count and meet his tempting blue eyes again.

"No problem, I like the London customs, Martin and more if they are shown with sincerity, as you do, I accept your gratitude with honor, I feel exalted," said the handsome Count, smiling at him provocatively and then stroking a little Martin's face with the back of his hand.

Martin was very surprised to hear such a comment from him, but he thought that it was better that the Count believed that it was just one of his English customs and not that the Count began to suspect that in fact the truth was that he already had a strong sexual interest in him. But all this also made increased his curious again to know more about his true aristocratic origins in Continental Europe.

"Well, then I say goodbye to you tonight, Count...Richard, rest well" said the blond at last, trying to avoid yawning, little by little he felt that his eyelids weighed more due to fatigue.

"Okay, I'll see you again in the morning, have a good night, Martin" Richard said, smiling at him with seduction and malevolence and gently bringing the knuckles of the blond's fist to his lips to kiss them again with subtlety "and excuse my  Romanian habits to say you goodbye in this way," added the handsome dark-haired man.

Martin did not know what else to say, he felt an internal excitement and then saw how the Count was heading towards the door of the room to leave. Martin admired again watching Richard's broad back and when the aristocratic host was outside and had closed the great door, Martin finally let out a sigh.

"This is...too...much" he mumbled to himself, in his chest almost did not fit the enormous intense emotion that all these pleasant feelings caused by Count Richard made him feel. Everything was the cause of his obvious infatuation.

Martin was enthralled in his own thoughts for a couple of minutes, standing on the same spot and then finally decided that he should move his clothes soon. Martin then took the nightwear that the Count's butler had left for him on one of the chairs and extended the outfit to observe it. He realized that it was an old-style set and was made of a fabric so white and so fine that he had not seen it before. He realized that it seemed to be made just for him, which comforted him, but also disappointed him a little with shame to admit that he would have expected the outfit to be the size of the Count because with that it could be likely that it belonged to him and that way he could feel as if he were next to him.

"It is quite daring and even sinful to even fantasize about it but ...really ...I like to imagine it" he said to himself, while continuing to observe those clothes.

Soon he undressed and began to put on those nightclothes. The clothes smelled fresh, were totally clean, which contrasted with the smell of old detached from the moisture that probably flooded the room. Although the room looked quite clean, even with the dim lighting, the truth was that it kept a characteristic smell of old. He imagined that this mansion must be very old indeed.

When he finished dressing he observed himself in a large mirror that was in the room.

"Vampires do not reflect it's the common belief ... so they should not have mirrors" he thought to himself as he contemplated his figure in front of the mirror. The old nightclothes had seated him quite well, and he was also very comfortable. In his mind echoed again the words of Count Richard who had just said a few minutes ago "my room is just to the side". Martin could not help but expand his imagination, his mind began to create new fantasies where he imagined the sexy Count Richard taking off his shirt and trouser to sleep, revealing his muscular and athletic male body. He would have loved to witness something as magnificent as that.

Outside it was still raining, the rain did not stop, but the electrical storm had almost stopped. That gave him the peace of mind that he could sleep.

Finally Martin got between the covers of the bed. The mattress was comfortable enough but it also creaked a little when moved, it was sure because it had hardly been used but it had been purchased a long time ago. That mattress should be as old as each piece of furniture inside the luxurious mansion. And being a guest room, surely the Count Richard had never slept in it.

"I wonder if the Count has already reclined in his bed," he said to himself as he approached the lamp that was on the desk to turn it off and sleep. Finally the light went out and the bedroom was in total darkness, although sometimes through the curtains some of the light caused by the rays, which were increasingly scarce.

Despite the great fatigue, Martin could not fall asleep immediately and on the contrary it seemed that the insomnia threatened to disturb him that night. While trying to sleep without success, the blond began to spin in bed. He began to open his eyes despite the darkness, meeting the shadows that were generated from the bedroom furniture, he discovered that with such darkness being in a strange and foreign place the objects of that mansion seemed to be much more dismal than they had similar before. A strange fear seemed to take hold of him for which he had no explanation because he had never been afraid of the darkness; he was a man who always let himself be guided more by logic than by suggestion, contrary to the rest of the population.

It had been several minutes since he had lain in bed, and for a moment he thought that if he could not fall asleep then perhaps he could take advantage of it to admire more the decoration of the luxurious bedroom. He was then ready to get out of bed but finally his eyes began to close, he felt that the sleepiness had returned and before falling asleep he thought of his boyfriend Benedict, quickly realized that he had not thought about him in a long time and remembered that the last time they had spoken had been in the afternoon in front of the Count Richard's office. He had not said good-bye to him or told him that he would leave with the handsome the Count Richard, let alone let him know that he had been Richard's special guest tonight. And then Martin finally fell asleep losing himself soon in dreams.

His dreams began to be a mess, as usual at the beginning of each night. He started by dreaming things without much sense, until little by little his dreams became more and more lucid. Horrified suddenly he saw himself inside the neglected and gloomy cemetery where the corpse of his beloved cousin Charles was buried, but the scene was not the same as he remembered having visited the cemetery in Leeds weeks ago, the setting again it was frightening, terrifying, just like the terrible nightmare he had had nights ago, on the same night that Benedict had stayed at his house to sleep.

 He panicked immediately, quickly returning to him the same anguished feeling of seeing the grave of his beloved cousin terribly profaned. His mind instantly engineered the fact of having to meet again with such a terrifying image that also inevitably caused him nausea, and he also thought that he would meet the mysterious man he had encountered on other occasions.

But in spite of his enormous aversion, Martin went towards that tomb, he did it involuntarily, because his legs simply moved by themselves. Soon he was right in front of the tomb; he could reach to read clearly the letters of the tombstone, which was broken: _"memento mori, an ephemeral life. Here lies Charles Raymond Freeman. He was born on February 8, 1833. He died on July 27, 1850. "_

Martin felt that his anguish would lead to a cry of horror, but his voice could not come out of his mouth. And he saw again what he feared, the somber man in ancient and Gothic dress was sitting on the grave again, but this time the man was facing him, he was in fact watching him closely, Martin could see the languid malicious smile he directed towards him and although he had long hair and crimson glasses, he could see that the man was the same man he had seen for a while in that old oil painting in Count Richard's dining room. His astonishment was even greater when he noticed that not only was he similar to the man in the portrait, but that his face had the same trait as Count Richard's.

"Ahhh, my God, what's going on?" The blond questioned, feeling the enormous need to flee the place "this is just a damn nightmare again!" he snapped inside his thoughts, while his gaze never ceased to observe that man so similar to Richard and who mockingly continued to smile at him, sitting on the profane grave of his cousin. And then Martin could see that Charles's coffin, terribly damaged by the years, was outside, near the grave.

"Come, come here Martin... do not you want to say hello to your cousin? He has told me a lot about you" said suddenly that sinister dark-haired man with a cavernous voice that caused Martin an intense and inevitable chill.

The mysterious man smiled widely, enjoying the panic of the blond expressed in his delicate face that had now paled due to fear.

"I must get out of here, I must flee," the blond muttered to himself, though his eyes never stopped looking towards the mysterious man who had the same face as the Count Richard. Martin was really scared, although he knew it was just a dream he could not control the panic he was experiencing because everything seemed dreamlike but at the same time it felt too real. Martin took a couple of steps back, ready to run away from there, and at the time the mysterious man (the Count) rose from his place and started walking towards him.

"Do not be afraid, Martin, your cousin Charles has really missed you so much and it would make him feel very sad if you run away without first greeting him," said the dark-haired man, the Count Richard, using his cavernous, intimidating voice again.

Martin could not articulate any more words, the voice did not seem to want to come out of his throat and despite his great fear he could not stop fixing his eyes on that man, without a doubt it was the same Count Richard, although he had a beard he was completely sure that It was about him, and he was getting closer and closer to the blond. And suddenly, after listening to the count's suggestion to stay, Martin realized that just above the broken and profane grave of his cousin was the corpse of his deceased, corrupted cousin, horribly decomposed, in the same way that he had seen in the nightmare of that night, dressed in the same clothes that he himself had dressed for his funeral and for his burial, but this time, the corpse was sitting on the headstone in a position that faced right in front of him , as if he were looking at him through his dead eyes, dry and extinct but not totally undone, without a spark of life.

Martin felt much more horrified at what he was witnessing, he wanted to scream with despair but again he could not do it, no sound could be emitted from his voice, and the nauseating smell made him even more convinced that all this damn nightmare was being too much real. Martin only managed to take a hand to his face, to calm his amazement and to avoid continuing to perceive that stench of putrefaction. But more than the terror he felt, it caused him great pain to see his late cousin in that deplorable state because he would have always wanted to keep in his memory the image when he was full of life. For a moment he cursed fervently that his subconscious was playing such a bad time, even if it was only the product of his nightmares.

And suddenly, while cursing himself for creating such chilling scenes in his mind, the animated corpse of his late cousin spoke to him, much to his amazement.

"Martin... I've missed you so much, the earth is so cold when they bury you before you start rotting. If only I could have had the privilege of being an undead like the Count Richard, if only I could have gotten that 'life'. Do not waste this opportunity..." Charles exclaimed in a cavernous voice, which was undoubtedly his, Martin could never forget his voice even if since the last time he had heard it had been more than two decades ago. The blond had at that moment a strange mixture of feelings, he was impressed, horrified and also disgusted by his deplorable appearance, but at the same time hearing his voice once again after so many years brought him some joy.

"Charles..." Martin finally managed to say, quietly, stopping at the place, watching as his dead cousin had even some nasty worms crawling all over his face.

"I'm sorry, I think this is too much for you, let's go better to a nicer place, Martin, let's let your cousin rest a little," the mysterious man with the thick dark beard suddenly said as he approached Martin and hugged him, making him lean his head on his chest. Martin was terribly confused and stupefied, the inevitable aversive feelings that had caused him to see his dead cousin seemed to have disappeared in just an instant thanks to that act of the Count, he felt immediately comforted and soon began to notice that the caresses that the Count had started to do on his back began to descend to his waist recklessly to then pose his hands on his butt, completely lascivious.

"What the hell is happening now?" the blond asked to himself while allowing the Count to continue boldly fondling his body. Martin realized that the whole picture around him seemed to have changed in its entirety, he had not realized when the horrible cemetery scene had been replaced by the same bedroom that the Count Richard had offered him that night, and now without knowing why he was there again, this time with most of the candles burning while the Count, with a thick beard and long hair continued to explore obscenely under his clothes, provoking him progressively to moan.

"Ahh... stop please, sir ... I do not ..." the blond asked trying to resist the pleasure that the Count's hands caused him all over his body, icy hands that made a delicious combination on contact with his skin that was now hot. But the Count did not stop doing what he was doing and, on the contrary, the caresses became more and more obscene, each time he went deeper into Martin's clothes until he found himself on his sex and masturbated him with gradual desperation. Martin just hugged him and allowed him, trying to stifle his moans on the chest of the dark-haired, while enjoying it madly. Never before had a man caused him this, not even Benedict, and even if it was only a dream, he could not and did not want to stop enjoying it.

"Martin, you are so beautiful..." Count Richard whispered in an ecstatic voice near his ear that caused a pleasant tingling in the blond that made his back shudder. The lusty caresses continued and the panting became more intense, their bodies were too close together and despite the difference in height, Martin could tell that the Count Richard's member was also hardened, still imprisoned under his thin cloth trousers.

"I do not know what the hell is going on, but... ah... I do not deny that I am enjoying this erotic dream with you, sir..." the blond muttered between gasps, hugging stronger the wide back of Count Richard who was becoming his lover that night, and then the Count smiled at him with a broad smile, pausing only a moment to contemplate his face that showed all the ecstasy he was provoking and their faces approached, despite the difference in stature, and soon the lips of both joined in a frantic kiss that began to deepen until it became hot and desperate. The kiss was too intoxicating, each seemed to enjoy greatly of that act, and while their tongues were in their mouths together, Martin could again feel in the middle that strange bulge that had felt in that strange hallucination in the middle of Richard's library, a protuberance that was nothing more than the vampire's fangs that at one moment pricked the blond's lips a little while they continued kissing.

"Ahh," the blond moaned, the sting had caused him the sensation of inevitable pain, even in the middle of his sleep, but that did not stop him from continuing to enjoy kissing with the handsome prince who attracted him so much, Martin was totally convinced that it was Richard, despite the differences in his appearance, and while they kissed the monster narrowed the small and thin body of Martin against his, the vampire enjoyed feeling Martin's erection rubbing with his leg and his own erection against the body of the blond. Being an undead, having an erection was something that few people could have imagined would be possible, but the truth was that vampires, on the contrary, he were endowed with a powerful sexual appetite, much greater than that of any human being, it was a perversity that was conferred along with the rest of his infernal abilities, and what made them so sexually promiscuous. Vampires were made to appropriate other people's lives in every way, including of course the sexual one. For that reason, like an incubus, Richard needed to satiate his sexual appetite in his preferred victims, and not just feed on his blood. In addition sex made their victims burn blood making it even more delicious.

"Ah... my love, my prince" Martin moaned amid the perdition of the lust of that strange nightmare, and they kissed again passionately, their lips were smeared with the blood of the blond and the taste of the kiss was now metallic. The monster had enjoyed tasting his precious blood once more, blood as pure as Martin's blood was that he was a pure, chaste, virginal man, and however exquisite it was, the Count preferred to try it only on small quantities, because it was too intoxicating for him and because it was too precious, as is an expensive perfume or a good wine.

"Martin, you are so beautiful, your body is so perfect, small, and full of life," the vampire said between groans as he continued to explore with his cold hands entirely the hitherto virginal body of the blond.

Martin was totally lost in ecstasy and confusion, because even though everything felt so vivid he could not help feeling that all this was just a dream, a nightmare that had become a dream homo erotic

The kisses and the caresses between both continued with exacerbation until little by little they approached the bed, which was huge and provided with a canopy from which hung transparent curtains of red and transparent cloth, it was undoubtedly the same bed where Martin had been assigned to sleep that night, it was the same room, the same furniture that he had seen, and now suddenly on him was the strong man who attracted him so much, on him was Count Richard, masturbating and vehemently kissing all his warm skin, white skin, smooth, alive, while his body shuddered with pleasure in his arms.

"No man has made you enjoy it like that before, has it, Martin?" asked the Count Richard, whispering close to his ear, listening closely to the agitated breathing of the blond who by that time was already half naked, the vampire had already skillfully removed the jacket and shirt that was wearing him, and Martin continued to hug him, clinging to his male back.

"No... never..." pronounced the blond in a trembling voice.

The great smile of Count Richard returned to outline malicious and he continued kissing him and after that lapse, began to run with his anxious mouth Martin's neck, which he desperately wanted to bite.

"Not even Benedict?" the vampire asked in a rapt voice, his sharp fangs beginning to show.

"No, I've never done it with him... nor with anyone" expressed the whispering blond, panting, his hands were perched on the dark and long hair of his now lover and after saying that confession, a lustful laugh escaped from the agitated voice of the Count, and suddenly Martin felt that the dark-haired quickly stripped him of the clothes that covered his legs, finally releasing his hardened erection that almost immediately to his surprise found the Count's erection, in a delicious friction of the rigid members of both of them.

And that feeling was so wonderful that Martin could not help but let out a scream of pleasure. Never before had he experienced something like that with another man, much less with a magnificent corpulent Adonis that caused him so much excitement. It was only dream but it was too wonderful.

"Then I'll have the honor of showing you, you'll enjoy a real man," Richard said, again running his hands through Martin's now naked body as he made his sharp fangs come closer to the skin of his neck, which Martin had not yet noticed because he was blinded by the pleasure and friction of their bodies, the violent brush of their genitals and just without noticing, Martin was already with his legs spread between the herculean naked body of the Count Richard, the same male torso, perfect and naked he had imagined before sleeping. Martin knew what was about to happen, Richard had placed himself right between his thighs, threatening to penetrate him with his thick erection, Martin just had discovered that the Count was too well endowed, his erect male member seemed imposing, and soon he would be inside him. Despite being just a dream and despite the intense pleasure of which he was being provoked, Martin felt fear, because this would be his first time after all, he had never before been penetrated by any other man, even at his forty. But he knew that it was inevitable, not only because at that moment the Count was already beginning to enter his glans in the blond's virginal and narrow entrance, but because he himself wanted to give in to it.

And just suddenly, Martin could feel the invasion of the thick hardened manhood of his vampire lover go deep into him to the bottom of a single thrust, and the blond hugged Richard's broad back strongly. Immediately Richard began to ram inside him, with a progressively violent rhythm. The invasion felt icy, uncomfortable for being the first time, and painful because of the violent form that Richard lashed inside him to the bottom, but it was also extremely pleasant, and suddenly, as he began to get used to the invasion a bit, Martin felt a sharp prick digging into his neck, were the vampire's fangs that soon began to suck his blood as he attacked inside him in that first penetration.

"Ahhh!" yelled the blond vibrantly, so loudly that it was heard throughout the great bedroom. He had shouted because of the strong thrusts that his male lover was giving him without even allowing him to get used to it completely, but above all he had shouted also because of those sudden punctures that had now brought back his fear, because that assured him that Count Richard, who had tonight become his lover, was in fact a vampire, what he had feared most, and just now he was giving himself to him in a carnal, sinful, lustful debauchery, which he did not regret at all, because he was enjoying it too much, Martin was finally having a delicious sexual union with another man, one that he really liked.

The vampire continued to enjoy his lush and bloody feast, sucked enough of Martin's delicious blood in a desperate act, Richard was getting completely drunk of that exquisite elixir of life at the time when his infernal virile member joined the small body that fed him with his blood, and all the excitement that this caused him filled him with energy and impetus to attack inside the blond even with greater force.

"Ahhh!" the blond shouted, now he was much more lost in ecstasy, it was only a dream, he was convinced of it, but it was too vivid and he did not want it to end, it was so damn vivid that he could completely feel the stiffness of his lover's member occupying his cavity, sliding inside him in a violent attack. An ironically glorious nightmare. And even though he knew that the consequences of being bitten by the vampire and that he sucked his blood, he did not want that to stop because it also excited him to know that his body, which was being deflowering, was now also feeding him.

"This is wonderful, Martin, you are my elixir of life" the excited vampire muttered without losing the rhythm of his perverse act, while Martin endured the pain that caused him great pleasure and while sliding the phalanges of his hands between the dark hairs of his undead lover.

"Do not stop... please... Richard" the blond muttered in a thin voice, the pleasure was so much that he felt his breathing becoming more and more difficult.

"We will have many other moments like this to enjoy together, my beautiful lover ...Martin" the Count said in a excited and husky voice as he now caressed Martin's blond hair and looked at him with some tenderness. Martin smiled at him with malice, had not understood that the words of the Count now meant that the dream was about to end, but before everything faded in his mind, appeared in front of the bed to his huge surprise, the same coffin gnawed of his cousin who had witnessed in the cemetery in his nightmare before, and suddenly from the gnawed coffin came the mummified corpse of his cousin, the same dreadful way in which he had seen him sitting in front of his desecrated tombstone. Martin was terribly horrified at this and could not explain immediately because he had to appear so aberrant scene right in front of the bed where he was having such delicious sex with the handsome vampire Count, who was still ramming inside him. At that moment Martin wanted to scream again, perhaps because of the impression of that or maybe once more because of the intense pleasure, but before his voice could emit any sound the dream seemed to end and then the blond woke up with a start, very early in the morning, on the guest bed.

…………..

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's been a very, very difficult year to update my fics xD * cries inside * that's why I've been so slow to upload the new chapters, so many things have happened that have prevented me from writing and explaining my inspiration T_T and so much that I always have! but at least I hope that this chapter has compensated a little that wait! >:3 I want to say I have ready the next chapter of this vampiric fic, I hope to upload it very soon and of course I can update the rest of my fics and upload all the new ones I have planned xD I mean you all have to know that my empire Richartin is already satisfied with at least 70 AUs Richartin! >:3   
> 70 new universes for these two to meet, love and unleash their sexual debauchery together! ;)  
> I am very grateful to those who follow and have followed this fic! It makes me very happy every time you let me know that you like the things I publish, from my fics to my graphic creations uwu (drawings, editions and digital paintings) you know how much I love Richartin, this is my true elixir of life! >:3 and although I must confess that sometimes it makes me feel sad not to have enough support but the truth is that I simply can't stop doing things for this beautiful, sexy and perfect ship because I love them so much and they continue to inspire me so much every day that I still there is still a long way to go! xD I need time to develop and create everything that these two inspire me! >:3 Long live Richartin! >:v  
> Wait to see the intensity with which the plot of this sexy vampire fic will continue! ;)


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